


From Eorzea to Fódlan with love.

by Lord_Kragan



Category: Final Fantasy XIV, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Crossover, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Universes Colliding, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Recovered Memories, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28842015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Kragan/pseuds/Lord_Kragan
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 12





	1. Mistakes were made

Chapter 1: mistakes were made.

Laughter blissfully filled Rhea's ears, a fragant smell blessing her nostrils. She was surrounded by a carnival of her people, dancing in joy and festivity. Rhea took a step forward, the crowd parting and opening a clearing. At its heart stood a magnificent being: her hair and eyes were the colour of emeralds, her skin the purest alabaster. She regaled Rhea with the softest of smiles and Rhea's heart was sent aflutter from that small gesture.

Rhea cried her mother's name and locked each other in a loving embrace, burying her face on the verdant field of her mother's mane. She laughed and caressed Rhea's cheeks, gently wiping the sudden tears. Breaking the embrace, Rhea's mother brought her daughter's atention east ward, her face now contorted with worried urgency.

There lied a book. Thick and with a lilac cover emblazoned by sigils from a thousand languages.Rhea turned in confusion, but she no longer saw her mother, only a curtain of thick smog, a deathly chill gnawing her bones. She tried to hear her people's voices and songs and, much to her mounting dread, the only response she received as silence.

All of a sudden dark talons clawed at her flesh, shlouging it and raking against her bones. She cried but her voice choked into a barely audible whisper. Her gaze blurred out as the skies themselves blackened and burned ablaze in equal measure as the symphony of her people's cries of agony and pain violated her ear drums. Once more she tried to break through the crushing embrace, but the talons burrowed further in return, bringing the motion to a screeching, shattered halt. As her world darkened, she could see a red and black demon, weeping tears of blood as he held a book and a sword made from the bones of the gods themselves. The blade darted, seeking heart.

"Gah!"

Archbishop Rhea gasped as she woke up, her lungs desperately grasping for breath as they burnt with the strength of a wildfire, her whole body covered by a patina of ice cold sweat despite her very core burning with a searing pain as her hands tightly clutched the crimson silk of her bed sheets in a writhing spasm. She directed a maddened gaze to her surroundings, her verdant eyes flickering in fear as she expected to find out that the ghosts that had been hounding her in her dreams had crossed the line to the realm of the living. She only saw the finely crafted iconography of her church, the silvery diwan and-

After images of that harrowing nightmare (nay, memory), lurched once again. She brought her ivory palms to cover up her face in a whimper. Fighting back the tears and the knot in her throat, she began marshalling her thoughts and herding back her nerves. Barely a few seconds after, she combed her emerald hair with those very same hands, her visage now an impassable mask of serenity.

The nightmares were a fixture of her life. Had been so for too long. This one had been much better than the usual fare, though. She snapped out of her stupor as she heard the doors open and a frantic step closed the gap towards her. That dream, except for one small detail, had been but the thousandth repeat of the same experience..

“My lady!”

“Cicol” muttered the archbishop. Nay, Setheth, Rhea mentally corrected herself. She was still drowsy, from the looks of it. The archbishop groaned and once again covered her face. "Did-did something happen?"

“My lady, you were crying in abject pain,” said Setheth, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

So she had screamed a bit more than usual, then. She ran her hands over her alabaster skin, shutting down her emerald eyes and pressing her peachy lips til they almost disappeared.

The book. By the goddess, she had to find the book.

"Seteth, to the library!" Shouted Rhea."We have to find the book!" If her vision had been right, if it hadn't just been a maddened fever dream, that book would be the key to reunite Rhea with her long lost mother.

=== 0 ===

Finding THE BOOK was the easy part, grumbled Seteth. They only had to scour the library, something easily achieved by flooding the place with bodies. A literal tidal wave of knights had turned the library upside down to find out THE BOOK. After that came almost a whole two days of scrounging strange concoctions and pulling bizarre rituals. He was being too grouchy true, but he *needed* some rest.

After about 50 hours without an ounce of sleep, a more calmed Rhea started the final checklist. The tower of the goddess was almost bursting at its seams from the sheer concentration of curios and assorted thingamajigs, warded by the perpetual darkness that dominated the abandoned tower, with precious few rays of light clawing their way from the 2 sole stone wall slits. Caterine stood guard by the moldy door, shooking her cream colored mane in silent disbelief, her tanned fingers tapping against the stark white armguards.

Caterine, you’ve gotta have faith in THE BOOK, thought Seteth sardonically as he grinded his teeth and adjusted his cape a smidge.

He wanted to sleep but...Rhea hadn't been this excited in ages. With a beaming smile, the archbishop wrinkled her little beautiful nose as she began running through the checklist.

"Saint Marianne's teardrop?" Seteth produced the alchemical concoction, placing the blue flask at the near center of a white chalk circle that represented the 23 crests. Rhea crossed the item, as the heartshaped links of her necklace clacked silently against each other and her stark white dress. "Urbain's Moongrass?" she sing songed.

"Check."

"Saint fingerbones"

"Check."

"Blood lily?" She asked, her voice growing more and more excited as the list came closer to an end.

The list went on for the better part of an hour. Soon her checking speed came to a crawl as both Caterine and Seteth had to juggle the placing of the ingredients, their task akin to placing the last cards needed to build the castle at this point. It was an almost ungainly pile at this point.

"The last ingredient," she announced, beaming with joy. She read the item and stopped for a second. Then read it again. And a third time. She winced in clear disbelief."A cat… with a marmalade toast strapped on?"

Seteth made to grab the furry bastard, who greeted him with a furious claw swipe. A trickle of blood was the reward for his troubles as the cat flailed from his grip.

"Motherfffff," he barely repressed the swear word as blood gently seeped from the scratch wound. "Check!"

With all the ingredients in place, Rhea gingerly recited the incantation.

==== 0 ====

"And I will be back in a week, kay, Ryne?" I commented.

The other Warriors and Scions had departed, leaving me behind with Ryne and Gaia as I finished sorting affairs with the two young ladies. Thancred would have gone on and on til the end of days if he did do it.

"Kragan, there is not to worry about our well being," prickly pointed Gaia as she toyed with her raven wing hair, earning a peeved out look from Ryne. "Wha- it's the truth!" She said as she rose her eyebrows

"I am not worrying about your well being, but rather your diet," I deadpanned, earning a guilty chuckle from the redhead and an annoyed eyeroll from the brunette. "Trust me young ladies: you will thank me for eating actual food once a week rather than cookies and sweets and whatever junk you stuff yourselves with at the Second serving," I joked, which made Ryne startle in indignation.

"You go there almost as often as us!" Rightfully accused Ryne as she made a mischevious smile, her blue eyes glinting knowingly. She got me.

"Guilty as charged," I did shrug apologetically at the rightful accusation. "You will still be thankful for joining me in the sole healthy meal I make each weak," I santimoniously pointed out.

It was Ryne's turn to roll her eyes in disbelief. Laughing softly, she hugged me. "Take care, and say hi to g'raha'tia once he is back," she begged wistfully.

I merely nodded, nostalgia filling my heart. With a word of parting I made my way through the crystaline hall of Syrcus tower's audience chamber, forging ahead towards the massive mirror. Back home.

==== 0 ====

Mother… at long last!

Rhea was beyond ecstatic at this moment. As the light gained purchase and bathed the archbishop, she couldn’t help but make a joyful giggle, the exhaustion of the whole ordeal washing away as the promise of meeting her beloved family again finally became a reality.

A mighty wind gust stormed the place. Caterine cursed and Rhea flinched just in time to start shielding her eyes from the violent blast of light that engulfed the tower. She flew towards the wall, slamming into it hard as her ears rang from the blast sounds. For a few minutes, the pain almost overwhelmed her. As it subsided, the archbishop dared to open her eyes again, eager to see her long lost progenitor.

Her jaw fell.

Right in front of her was a fat man dressed in a puffy red and black attire. The chest and arms were red with black trim, while the rest of the dress was black, bar the cream coloured collar. He had a gold and black cloth double timing as a belt and cloth of sorts, which almost reached the dark gray boots. A tricorne, its horns aiming west and east, crowned a very angry face. The white feather on the hat's right side was a nice touch, though. Either her mother had put on a lot of weight or this wasn't her mother.

“What in the actual fuck,” blurted out the newcomer in an high pitched voice.

This wasn't her mother.

The outlander was diametrically opposed to her mother’s appearance. She was lithe, he was downright piglike in build. Her hair was a flowing mane a shade akin to the finest emeralds, while his was but an unruly thicket of coal black curls. Her skin was alabaster, while this intruder’s was dark like an almyran’s. His brown eyes, circled by darkened eye bags and crowned by thick brows, darted around the room with apprehension and hostility. He sucked his puffy cheeks for a second before speaking again.

Rhea did not understand what he said, he spoke in a bizarre tongue, alien to those spoken in Fódlan and its neighboring nations. It sounded like a curse. Rhea shook her head in utter bewilderment and disappointment.

"No… no, no, no!" Lamented Rhea as she almost fell to her knees.

Control yourself. She had to make something out of this. First thing first: greetings!

“Greetings, outlander, I know this must-”

“Yeah,yeah, this is a different world I’ve been summoned to” bluntly cut the man as he rolled, his voice almost brimming with exasperation. “Ma’am, pardon my manners but this is like the 3rd time I’ve been in this situation. Trust me when I say I know the tune.”

Rhea winced, blinking several times in utter disbelief. She certainly hadn’t thought of the chance of summoning a person other than her mother, much less that the summoned warrior being a veteran of such experiences already.

“O...kay, that eases things, I guess.”

“May I ask what is the purpose of this summoning,” the outlander took a step, his voice now much softer, his body language relaxing.

"Well, of cou-”

Wait a moment.

An eternity long moment passed by as the full meaning of his previous statement dawned on her. Her eyes widened as she began grasping the meaning behind his words and let out a small gasp.

"Other worlds,” she managed to say in utter bafflement, her voice a strangled whisper.

The newcomer caught on the meaning of that statement about as fast as her. His face contorted in barely controlled anger.

“Oh no,” he began. “Don’t you dare tell me-”

Rhea’s face was deformed into an extremely puzzled expression. The stranger caught on it immediately. Cursing again in that alien language of his he took his hat and furiously dropped it into the ground, his rapier clacking against the metal bits and bobs that dotted his cloth.

"Let me get this straight," He began with bated breath, his temper rising." You absolute buffoons just went out and summoned someone without a care nor clue about what you were doing," his tone escalated until he was almost shouting, or rather screeching. His next words were barely a hiss."You just went and did *that*. And of course, you clearly do not have a fucking clue what you were doing, you clearly must have no way to send me b-”

He was quick of reflexes, managing to draw his blade in time and parry Caterine’s blow in the nick of time. His stance wobbled and the knight of seiros preyed on his weak position with a kick. The outlander fell to the floor, smashing his bulky frame against the surface.

“Don’t you dare insult Lady Rhea!”

Caterine grunted and drove her blade towards his chest. Without a single word, the outlander casted some bizarre magic, sliding his body way towards a nearby chair. He wasted no time either, catapulting his portly bulk and crashing against the knight with utmost prejudice. Now it was Catherine’s turn to fly across the room.

While Rhea was still processing the bizarre turn of events Seteth began readying his magic and the outlander turned his weapon towards her.

Then threw it to the floor and quickly raised his hands.

“Time out!” he yelled. “I surrender! Time out!”

=== 0 ===

The maniacal knight hit the wall and fell into the ground in a cloud of dust after smashing her against the dark gray stone wall. The wooden planks creaked and groaned at the sudden strain in return.

Good. Now crush it’s time for the other two.

The thought was quick, vicious, but the knee jerk from my more rational part was almost as fast.

And then what. What are you gonna do? Think straight, you’re just digging yourself into a deeper hole. The thought dawns on me with the speed and strength of a lightning bolt.

I didn't need that much input to notice this mess would be a non-starter.

The more I struggle, the messier it will get. Just try to salvage the situation, Kragan. And don't. Yell. Kupo. Again.

“Time out!” I yelled as I threw away my weapon. “I surrender! Time out!”

The duo of greenhaired fellas stared at me in utter bafflement.

I mean, I really wanted to smack these idiots for the sheer fuckup they made. Like, hot damn these morons made a mess.

“This has stopped making any sense,” muttered the green haired guy in a passive aggressive tone.

Yeah, go tell me. I was supposed to be back home, not… wherever this is.

I turned, as the crazy lady got herself back up, grunting in pain. Oh c’mon, I didn’t put that much force!

As if she had read my mind, she shot a murderous glare at me that all but bellowed ‘yes you did, you bastard’.

I huffed indignantly at the silent accusation. I can control my strength just fine.

“Mother…”  
The so-called Reina, or something like that, fell on her knees despondently.

Mother.

It didn't take a genius to start figuring things out.

Sighing loudly, I grabbed my tricorn and dusted it off while I closed the distance between the two of us. The man roadblocked me, steel filling his eyes. A part of me just wanted to punch him out of my way. That part was being needlessly bellicose.

They fucking stranded you in a different world for no fucking reason.

Oh quiet you. I swear I can be beyond awful at times.

“You have my sympathy,” I began, gently bowing and bringing my tricorne to my chest. “Whatever you were trying to reunite her with her family did backfire spectacularly, that’s just beyond frustrating," no, that is not the right word. "And heartbreaking," I hastily added.

For a few painfully long seconds the man just stared at me. He was clearly weighing his chances and taking my measure. He, of course, didn't trust me.

“I do not want to make a further mess,” I said as level headedly as I could. “And I am positive it’s not within your interest to shed blood without a reason."

The silence awkwardly stretched over what seemed a thousand years. I clenched my teeth in trepidation, beads of sweat starting to marr my brow.

Better prepare to recall my rapier. This guy is gonna kill me otherwise warned a more primal and base part of my brain.

Then, at last, he just nodded. Such a simple gesture, and it still surprised me. His gaze was still untrusting but his body language adopted a more relaxed stance. He stepped ahead and got within arm's reach.

"Seteth, aide of Archbishop Rhea," introduced the man, extending his hand in a welcoming gesture "At your service"

"Kragan Harkund at your disposal," I introduced myself in a jovial tone that belied my uneasiness. I paused on my tracks for a moment, finally marshalling the courage to make the question. "Where in the seven hells am I?!" My voice stuttered from the sheer bewilderment.

He looked at me with surprise. He pressed his lips, like he just ate a lemon.

"You were not joking?" He asked, incredulous, his brows raised in surprise.

My mouth just dislocated after that.

This is going to be a long day, innit?

=== 0 ===

Byleth had had a less than stellar morning.

She had slept badly. Fine, its not the end of the world. She had been forced to wage a battle first thing in the morning. Okay, its part of the job description. And in a crowning moment of stupidity she had to go and take an axe chop to the face in lieu of a princess she didnt know the name of.

...

Just fuck yourself sideways, Byleth.

Not her finest move. Certainly not her brightest idea.

Byleth was in a most foul mood at this point, and thus was having none of that barefooted sassy kid that sat in the weathered stone throne in front of her. With her silly stony expression and stupid flowing emerald mane of wild hair. Sothis wasn't even that great a name.

"Are you sure you are an adult," she whines dismissively. "Well, you certainly look the part."

Oi. That was it.

"YoU cErtaInlY LoOk thE pArT," parroted Byleth in a bout of pettiness.

"You cannot do that!" Protested Sothis. The green haired midget rose from her throne, clenching her fists in protests as her squealing voice rose another octave, which was quite a feat.

"YoU CaNnoT dO ThAT!" Crowed Byleth, squatting and strutting around like an idiot, partially sticking her tongue out at Sothis and making exaggerated arm spasms at Sothis. The look on the stranger's face only spurred her on further, and a mocking smile spread across her lips, only to be replaced by a more malicious one as Sothis's puffed her cheeks and his eyes began to well up.

It went back and forth until Sothis was on the verge of crying from the sheer frustration.

"You are too mean!" Cried Sothis as she curled her body into the fetal position.

By now Byleth had vented her frustration and felt a wee bit guilty. With a grimace she sighed, mentally chastising herself for her callousness. She approached the strange kid and gently embraced her, the end of her blue mane caressing that wild hair of hers.

"I am lousy," she muttered as she combed her hand through Sothi's hair. "After you saved me… this is how I thank you. My bad."

This just made Sothis pout further.

"Oi kid," snaps Byleth playfully.

"I am going to send you back," she announced with a morose tone. "Half a minute before the axe in the face incident."

"I am sorry, what?" Asked Byleth as she took a step backwards and frantically watching her surroundings, the loose sleeves of her black coat slash makeshift cape fluttering around.

"Serves you right for mocking me!" Rebuked Sothis as she puffed that washing board of a chest of hers. This pipsqueak was getting a cuff next time. As she felt her body grow lighter and the flow of time itself reverted, Sothis waved her hands and spoke but Byleth could only hear the last sentence. "Also...Beware the man in red and black," she said cryptically.

Come again?

================

So, thanks dear readers, for sticking around! 

Why I am writing this? Because I want to be frank: this fic needs a beta reader, I know it quite well, given that english is not my native language. If anyone would be interested in doing beta work (and I include bouncing off plot point ideas and scene pitches on the job description!), please comment on it or send me a message. Your effort is extremely valuable and appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2: Schemes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Local Mercenary joins hands with Foreign Mercenary in a foolish effort to achieve world peace and totes not get their OTP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that really activates my marbles is how this apparently elite institution, that trains Fódlan's elite... has a 1 year curriculum. It just grinds my gears badly. Hence why I will stretch this to two years.

**Chapter 2. Schemes**  
  
  
Byleth felt nauseated and disoriented. A pungent, acrid taste filled her taste buds as she felt on the verge of throwing up while her eyes and lungs burnt badly. Repressing the irritated tears, she tried to figure out what was going on.  
  
_Half a minute before the axe on the face incident._  
  
The girl’s words rang through Byleth’s head as she finally caught on what had just happened. Without wasting another second, she made her way to the young noble lady and the attacking bandit. Sprinting through the scorched fields and crumpling the odd ashen grass, she closed the distance, deftly avoiding a falling soldier clutching an arrow staked against his throat.  
  
The bandit didn’t see Byleth and he certainly didn’t see her rising her blade. He did see his own arm flying, wildly spiraling amidst a geyser of blood, which made him unleash a cry of utmost agony, as the man tried to fall to his knees.  
  
And just before he could, the white haired youth lurched around, driving her dagger on the bandit’s throat. She threw her weight over, slamming the thief against the dirt and withdrew her blade. Blood spurted as the villain gurgled and spat crimson, his eyes twitching. With a grunt, the girl furiously stabbed him. Once, twice, four and eight times. Red droplets stained her alabaster visage, now a mask of hatred as she ground her teeth and wrothfully carved the man’s softer flesh until she left a mangled mess.  
  
Once he stopped moving, she halted, breathing heavily, as her body shuddered in horror upon beholding her bloody work,. Gulping nervously, she tried to steel her nerves, tightening her shaky grip around the dagger as she started to regain some of her composure though still visibly shaking. Given how petite she was, Byleth thought she was a trembling rabbit for a second. As if reading Byleth’s mind, the girl directed a glare at her, her lilac eyes brimming with steel, her gentle brows furrowed, her soft lifts pressed in frustration. She made to say something but the bandits got ahead of her.  
  
“They killed Kostas!” shouted one of the bandits. “Kostas got shanked!” With that cry,the bandits routed, every man fleeing for the hills. Cries of victory and jeers began to fill the battlefield, and Byleth could breathe again. "Kostas is done for!"  
  
“Edelgard!” Shouted a youthful voice. "Are you okay?"  
  
Normally, Byleth would have commented on the noble lord's dashing looks, his gorgeous blonde hair (though she wasn’t a fan of the clipped rich boy hair style of his) and azure eyes being the most standout features. The guy was quite tall and flat out ripped.But all of that was but a footnote to the fact the boy was covered in gore and his expression was that of someone who just vented up all his stress. And normally, people so apparently casual with murder were the most troublesome. This made Byleth give the boy a wide berth.  
  
"Dimitri, I am as fine as I can be given the circumstances," Edelgard announced with a polite if slightly impersonal tone. She got up and started cleaning her dagger with a spare handkerchief, paying no heed at the young man.  
  
Byleth eyed the two of them for a few seconds. She impishly thought they’d make a good couple. The boy kind of seemed to want that to happen, given how deflated he seemed by the neutral reaction of the girl.  
  
"Edelgard!" Shouted the dark skinned flamboyant bowman.  
  
The youths began engaging in a light banter. Byleth half heard them at times as her mind was focused on her fellow mercenaries.  
  
"Kid!" Byleth snapped at attention turning leftwards and focusing on her dad. Jeralt reined his horse earning a neigh from the bay stallion. "Still in one piece!?" He asked with a proud grin.  
  
"Still in one piece dad!" Proclaimed Byleth with a puffed chest.  
  
"Good to know!" He made a mirthful smile. "Would have made you clean the latrines otherwise! Can't have my people get punked by these schmucks!" Jeralt jumped down his saddle. He spared a glance at the 3 nobles and made a welcoming gesture, a warm smile drawn on his rugged and manly face. "Well, seems we have tourists, can't say you picked the right date, we are in bandit season," he commented as he scratched his blonde beard with a gauntleted hand.  
  
This earned a small chuckle from the crowd.  
  
_You know, they are an interesting lot if you think about it. Well, at least more interesting than the stonefaced doormats dad insists on hiring_ She mused.  
  
"We must indeed apologize for our poor timing," reckoned Dimitri. "Though I think that as far as ambushes go, we couldn't have chosen a better moment."  
  
Was this supposed to be a joke? Byleth awkwardly wondered.  
  
"Which makes me think," began Edelgard. "We could benefit from your protection while heading back to Garreg Mach Monastery," The innocent request made Jeralt stop on his tracks. His face went from placid to stone cold in a split second. The shift was not lost on the princess, who cocked her head quizzically. "Is there something wrong, sir?"  
"We cannot accept," he deadpanned, making his way back to the saddle.  
  
"We can pay you handsomely," ventured the impish archer  
  
"We cannot accept," Jeralt repeated his statement much more brusquely, steel brimming in his voice. "We are leaving."  
  
_Oh no, we are not leaving, dad._  
  
She wanted to stay with them for some further more... it was time to initiate operation Puppy Eyes.  
  
"Dad, we cannot abandon them!" Mewled Byleth as she made a sad face and batted her eyelashes."we have to accept their request. It would be a death s-"  
  
"We certainly can and will refuse that request!" Chided Jeralt with a souring expression.  
  
"But daaaad!" She pleaded in a heartbroken voice, her mock distraught palpable. Jeralt stopped again, this time unsure how to press as Operation Puppy Eyes was being successful.  
  
A thundering cavalcade interrupted their little argument, the mercenaries and nobles snapping eastward. Heralded by the first rays of dawn,a party of knights bearing the standard of the church of Seiros thundered their way out of the woods. At their head was a middle age man that, as outlandish as it sounded, oozed friendliness and happiness.  
  
"Jeralt!!" Joyfully boomed the man as he frantically waved his hand at them, almost falling to the ground.  
  
"It's too late," her father muttered dejectively."Oh bother."  
  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
"You know," I said before taking a sip of tea. "Normally it's the other way around: the summoned individual is the one that can barely comprehend things," I gingerly noted.  
  
Mmm. Not enough sugar.  
  
_Gimme that spoon._  
  
"That's like the third time you added more sugar," pointed Catherine in a passiveaggressive tone.  
  
"Yeah, I am bound to reach the desired amount of sugar."  
  
"Just pour your cup on the sugar pot at this rate."  
  
"Not a bad idea!" I exclaimed, nodding in agreement and earning an incredulous eye roll from her, which in turn made me let out a chuckle. "I was merely joking!" I justified myself, getting yet another eye roll and grunt.  
  
I took a gander at the garden once again. Surrounding the stone gazebo where our ivory-like table was placed at stood a lush garden, with finely curated rose bushes dotting the place, lovingly cared for vines creeped the walls and a wall like bush double timed as a partition. In front of us laid the towers of Garreg Mach monastery, which laid at the very heart of this land, Fódlan.  
  
"Different worlds and universes…"  
  
  
In front of me the duo of clerics are just mindblown. Seteth's fist was pressed tight against his lips, his wrist pressed against the verdant goatee, while Rhea was covering her head with both of her hands, stray locks of emerald hair jutting out of the weave of fingers. I had my doubts on whether any of the two had managed to blink in a good while.  
  
To be honest I had gone full ahead with them and quite possibly went overboard with the details. At first they thought me a charlatan, but as I went on and on… and on and on and one and. They just surrendered to the reality that no one had that fertile an imagination to go on non-stop for 2 hours, and be 100% consistent with it, while being so thoroughly, so genuinely ignorant of the wider world. That and that my powers _apparently_ didn't really mesh with their current schools of magic or some such.  
  
"I-," began Rhea as she marshalled her thoughts. She paused, closing her eyes for a second before she regained her trademark motherly visage. "You have my most sincere apologies, the ritual was supposed to bring back a lost family member, certainly not cause such an inconvenience.”  
  
"I don't suppose I could stay here for a bit,” I ventured, hopeful. “That is, until I can find a way to come back.”  
  
Rhea gently massaged her chin pensively. She furrowed and pondered before the proverbial lightbulb turned on.  
  
“Catleia retired this year in order to tend her family,”muttered the archbishop. “We do need another teacher for the officer’s academy 1st year course.”  
  
At this statement Seteth stiffened, his irises shrinking a bit as he opened his fist into a palm and softly smashed it against the table. He swiftly turned to his superior as he left out an inocoherent gaggle of grunts and meaningless sounds punctuated by agitated, almost spasmic, gesticulation before mangaging to exclaiming in a strained huff:  
  
"Rhea, we don't know the first thing about him!"  
  
"After that massive and long winded rant he's subjected to?" She pointed out, her eyebrows raised and her expression filled with dismay.  
  
I shrugged apologetically and made a sheepish smile.  
  
Seteth shook his head.  
  
"Regardless, we need to secure a quality curriculum!” complained Seteth as he pointed an accusatory finger at me. “We cannot allow anyone with no experience!”  
  
"I have been a navy man for," I paused rubbing my chin. "Seven, eight years by now? I also served as an attache to other nations and organizations and acted as a commander in several battles and large scale operations."  
  
I went on for a fair bit further. Naturally Seteth wasn't satisfied with just hearing me. The man clearly cared about the school, its students and thus wanted the best for them. Quickly, my explanation devolved into an argument ranging from logistics to grand strategy and other assorted subjects. For every argument I made he had a counter, which I responded with a comeback. At some point Catherine removed the tea set and brought parchment and quills so the two of us could illustrate our respective positions. Down the line the whole thing had turned into a competition of sorts. Who could outsmart who, who had the best methods and plans.  
  
I sneezed and for the first time I noticed the sun is starting to set, it's last rays piercing through the trees and casting gargantuan shadows.  
  
"Just how long have we been doing this?" I asked as I noticed the sprawling mess of diagrams and scribbles that marred the table.  
  
"Good question," muttered Seteth.  
  
"Are you done yet?" The both of us turned towards Rhea, who was belatedly standing by the garden's entrance. "Thank the goddess, I thought I'd have to order the servants to bring some blankets," she said with an amused, if tired, voice.  
  
"When did you get up?" I asked, utterly befuddled.  
  
"This little argument of yours has gone for three hours…you are hired," announced Rhea wearily. She then made a gentle smile and cocked her head. "If only because you will keep Seteth entertained."  
  
Seteth made to raise a protest but he halted. Rubbing his goatee, the clergy man nodded and accepted. Tersely he turned to me and extended a hand to me.  
  
"Welcome to the Garreg Mach's officers academy," announced Seteth in a pleasant if cold voice. "It will be a pleasure to work with you.”  
  
I, of course, hadn’t said anything yet. I was left blinking and fairly confused overall.  
  
My mum was a teacher. My brother was a teacher. My cousins were teachers. My aunt was a teacher. My grandpa and great grandpa had been teachers. I had sworn, back in the day, that I would not be a teacher, if only to add variety to the family tree.  
  
Y _et… it doesn’t sound that bad. It’s not like I will be dealing with the little twerps my family dealt with. Plus the alternative will most likely be sleeping under a bridge or somesuch._  
  
"The pleasure is mine,” I affirmed, shaking Seteth’s hand. “I will be in your care.”  
  
  
Truly life did strange turns.  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
I was alone in my room now, pouring my thoughts into notes over the candle light and the scant moonlight after dinner and introductions with the rest of the staff. They of course had been surprised at such a sudden replacement, much so from such obscure origins.  
  
_Garreg Mach spreads its curriculum over the course of two years._ I mentally noted down as I wrote further.  
  
It used to be condensed in a single year,apparently, but students were overworked and dropped out at an alarming rate or were left underprepared. _Plus they can nickle and dime the families for twice the time._  
  
I smirked at the cynical thought. I almost blanched when I heard the tuition fees. _And here I thought american students had it bad._ Truly, welfare states were a blessing. Granted, the installations were quite good given this was a glorified college dorm.  
  
At that thought I looked around my room. While the furniture was spartan, given it consisted of just a wardrobe, my desk and chair plus a bed, the room was spacious enough for me to roam around and add a personal touch down the line. And the rooms of the second floor, which belonged to the noble born students, were even larger.  
  
I eyed the stacks of paper to my left. They were two dossiers containing the profiles of the classes I could be the tutor of. This continent, Fódlan, had 3 nations, and the monastery segregated them in as many classes: the black eagles represented the Adrestian empire to the south, the Golden Deers represented the Leicester Alliance to the East and the Blue Lions stood for the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus to the north. Generally speaking a teacher would tutor a class for the two years, accompanying them through their formation. So whether I chose the Black Eagles and the Blue Lions (Hanneman, a more senior teacher, had expressed a desire to teach the golden deer) was an important choice for the foreseeable future.  
  
That is, if I actually had a choice. As the newest teacher, I would be given the leftovers. Not that it would hurt to know which set of teenagers I may be saddled with.  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
"What a mess," I murmured, perched next to one of the arches from the monastery's entrance.  
  
Not too far away a number of riders dismounted and handled the reigns of their mounts, the cavalcade clattering against the worn tiles of the patio. The horses neighed or spat nervously as the pages took them to the stables. I mused on how they barely cast a shadow. Had the morning passed by that fast? Had I been _this absorted_ getting to know the locale?  
  
Apparently, there would be another replacement. The previous teacher, who had accompanied the royals, had decided to flee away from his wards. The princes and the Riegan heir had almost died, meaning that the responsible fella would not have bright prospects in the local job market.  
  
Speaking of the 3 little devils.  
  
"YOUR HIGHNESS!"  
  
"DIMITRI"  
  
"LADY EDELGARD!"  
  
I barely managed to repress a chuckle after they were almost drowned by the sudden tide of terrified students. Their classmates, upon learning their possible fate, were worried sick, or so I was told. For the briefest of moments, I noticed that Dimitri was throwing furtive glances at Princess Edelgard. I had a good inkling as why. They had just survived together a life or death situation. _Ah, being young._  
  
What a disgusting experience indeed. I turned to my companion.  
  
Professor Hanneman could easily be described as a silver fox, and that sharp dress of his only accentuated the impression. The monocle and the kind of stiff posture only served as punctuation for the statement, too. I flashed a gentle smile at him.  
  
"Well, looks they can count our blessings… and we will be spared the hurdle of choosing new house leaders."  
  
"We will still have to juggle the lessons of the 3 classes between the 2 of us,” Hanneman says with a grimace.  
  
I balked at that. True indeed.  
  
"Seven hells, it's true… guess we will have to ask help from Seteth or the second year teachers, I guess?”  
  
"Oh, makes me think," Hanneman muttered. "Have you seen Manuela?"  
  
My eyes widened a bit as memories of last night and this morning flashedback. I grimaced before telling him the truth.  
  
"She was bawling like a lost kitten this morning," I commented matter of factly. "And yesterday night she was shouting more curses than a witch casting a hex." Hanneman groaned and, in utter resignation , he headed toward's the lush's room, ready to drag her out, all while complaining about that walking disaster of a woman. "I wonder if they are a couple," I mused once I was left to my own devises and stared the crowd of youths still ganging up on the royals.  
  
**_"You what!?"_**  
  
The hysteric shout startled me.  
  
"The fuck is going on!?" I souted while I snaped back at attention. Looking back at the entrance I saw Seteth. Poor fella was almost down to his knees next to a beaming Rhea and in front of a young gal. “Well, guess, the staff’s fully covered, for now,” I concluded.  
  
_Not sure if it’s gonna be for the better or worse._  
  
  
By the looks of it, she was around my age, and looked the part, unlike me who was usually described as being a decade older than reality. Deciding to meet the new face in the block, I headed towards the entrance hall at a trudging pace, mindful as to not get bogged down on the swarm of frenzied teenagers. So focused I was on that horde that I bumped into her, almost sending the two of us unto the floor.  
  
Her heels clacked against the tiles, diverting my attention towards the tikes. I noticed she wore some very intricate, exotic stockings, almost mesmerizing in their design. Her dark gray top had a massive cleavage, half hidden by that white collar and copper locket of hers. A more base part of me noted how all her attire could be described as form fitting, giggling childishly at the concept. She had a soft and pale face, with peachy lips crowned by a small nose in between azure eyes. Her flowing locks hair, flowing up til her shoulderblades, were like turquoise, nowhere close to green but not quite blue. Minding my manners, and as soon as I regained my equilibrium, I made a gentle bow while taking off my hat.  
  
"Greetings, my name is Kragan, Kragan Harkund," I introduced myself with a welcoming tone. "From what I have heard we will be both rookie mentors."  
  
"So am I told...Byleth Eisner," said the mercenary after a momentary pause. "Glad to hear someone will share the same hurdles as me, will make this less daunting."  
  
"Oh miss Eisner," I began after a soft chuckle. "The process of education is always a new experience, unique with each promotion. Our colleagues will also be in a similar position to us," I nod pensively directing a ghost of a smile at her. "Though I have to say I also share the sentiment!" I drew a small smile as she laughed softly, her eyes gently narrowing down. Or rather, crinkling.  
  
I diverted my gaze for a second, my focus shifting towards prince Dimitri, who was still on the courtyard with a giant of a man of dark complexion and silver hair.  
  
"You know… I couldn't help but notice that the two princelings would make a splendid couple," I point out absentmindedly. "Their plight is almost out of a fairy tale: two royals hunted by villains, saved in the nick of times.  
  
She made a foxy smile.  
  
"Precisely my thoughts, granted, you're omiting the splendid mercenary that saved the royals" she agreed with a playful voice.  
  
"And humble to boot!" I retorted playfully. She snorted.  
  
"The most humble of them all."She nodded self importantly."You know, it's a pity no one here can play matchmaker."  
  
"Certainly, it's not like 2 teachers could help them steer to the right course!" At this both of us laughed knowingly and, as I wiped my tears we reach a silent agreement and I grew bolder. "Truly, it would be splendid that such a pair of _intrepid_ mentors would take such a role," I ventured further.  
  
"Why, I think it would herald peace for all of Fódlan!" she added in a fake coy voice.  
  
We both nodded, and our grins were enoug confirmation.  
  
"We shall commence operation Edelmitri at once," I proclaimed enthusiastically.  
  
She stared at me blankly for what it felt like an eternity, an awkward silence filling the entrance.  
  
_Way to fuck up, buddy._  
  
After an era-long silence, she finally spoke.  
  
"You mean operation Dimigard," she said tersely, a spark of defiance lighting her eyes.  
  
I took a step back, a strangled gasp escaping my throat. _What kind of preposterous nonsense is that!?_  
  
"You… you philistine!" I hissed from the depths of my heart in abject horror. I furiously pointed my finger at Dimitri, earning a confused glare from the prince. "Look at him, ya blind badger. He is clearly a bottom and she will lead by the nose," I hissed again, this time at a barely audible volume, making her wince in utter outrage.  
  
"Like hell he will!” she growled at a low voice. “Just look at him: he is ripped and a head taller than her, he is clearly gonna be the lead of the couple, m'kay!?"  
  
The nonsensical debate lasted for… too long, to be honest. Our voices started rising as we drew closer to a shouting match and our wits' end. We at least had the common sense to move towards the garden, away from prying eyes and unsuspecting ears, our voices growing louder and more aggression filled the closer we got to the gazebo. Suffice to say, the bonhomial mood was deader than dead.  
  
"Enough prattle!" I shouted to the point I scared the nearby birds away. I unsheathed my rapier and took position "If words fail, we shall let steel do the talking! Have at thee!"  
  
_Today I feel purple prosey, it seems._  
  
She huffed mockingly, her eyebrows rising as she made a bloodthirsty smirk, baring teeth the way a wolf bared its fangs.  
  
"At last you say something that isn't pure nonsense!" She proclaimed as she draws her sword. "Don't worry, I will try to not leave too many scars," she growled as she too readied her stance.  
  
We circled each other for a few seconds before we quickly crossing the distance, weapons at the ready, battlecries roaring through the garden.  
  
"What in the goddess' name are you two doing!?"  
  
We both stopped on our tracks, our weapons a hair's breadth away from each other. My rapier almost touching her eye, while her sword almost got close to my heart and lungs. Seteth creased an eyebrow, inquiring silently what we were doing. His face that of a tired teacher learning that he just got saddled with two troublemakers. _Not that he was that far from the current situation._  
  
Without a second of doubt we sheathed our weapons and took a more relaxed posture, much less murdere-y. I clasped my hands behind my back and directed my attention to the surrounding greenery.  
  
"Wonderful weather, innit?" I commented absentmindedly.  
  
"Simply charming," agreed Byleth, clearing her throat as she made a gap between the two of us."This garden is gorgeous,” she said in a forcefully upbeat voice.  
  
"Simply charming!" I echoed while I nodded and widened the gap.  
  
"What. Are. You. Doing," Seteth demanded in what was clearly his no bullshit tone. He even folded his arms.  
  
_Okay. Time for a more direct approach._  
  
"Seteth you must still be exhausted from yesterday," I said with deep concern. "Please,take some rest," I begged as I place my hand on his shoulders. “There’s nothing to worry, we were just… appraising the craftsmanship of your weapons!” I said in the most unconvincing tone ever.  
  
_That is what I can come up with. Really. I can’t even._  
  
For a few seconds his gaze darted between my face and my hand. His mouth was sligthly agape and his eyes all but told me "the fuck are you on". With a weary voice he made a request to the two of us.  
  
"Just try to teach **_A_** ," Seteth put special emphasis on that word. "Class before murdering each other," he pressed his lips for a moment before taking further precaution. "Please," he begged and with that he left the garden, making a gesture for me to accompany him.  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
After a few choice words, I was allowed to go and prepare for the claustrum... or whatever is the Fodlander word for a reunion of teachers.  
  
As I hurried my way through the 1st floor of the central building, I bumped on that Eisner fella, again. And by bump I meant that we crashed against each other, the two of us sprawling against the floor as my notes floated around. My body smashed the floor and I cried out.  
  
"Ouch, look where you look at!" I warned as I quickly rose up and frantically gathered my notes.  
  
"Look where you look at," she crowed in a mocking tone, a ghost of a smile drawn on her face.  
  
"If you are gonna repeat all my verbal gaffes I suggest you take care of your vocal cords," I added with a short, humourless laugh as I ended gathering the notes. That one the last piece and I could turn to pay attention to her. I offered my hand to her. "Because I make them by the dozen," she took it and she almost sent me towards the floor a second time with that brutal pull of hers. "Ouch,” I complained theatrically. “You okay?”  
  
She grunted, amused.  
  
“You’re awfully friendly for someone who’s just argued to almost death with me,” pointed out Byleth as she dusted off her shorts.  
  
  
"Oh no, far from it," I denied raising my palms, the stack of notes pincered by my left arm and armpit. "I am someone that flat out loves to bicker, so don't get that impression, you did cause a good impression."  
  
She snorted softly once again. _You know, It's kind of a cute noise._  
  
Byleth shifted, her eyes flickering for a moment. That impish smile of hers made me brace for impact.  
  
"Hey, can I get to teach the Black Eagles?"  
  
"No," I automatically shot down the request, my usually high pitch voice reduced to a cuasi guttural growl.  
  
She winced for a second and pressed her lips until they almost disappear.  
  
"Why not?" She demanded petulantly.  
  
_No. I am not playing this game of hers._  
  
"Better question, why do you want the black eagles?"  
  
Doubting for a moment, she approached and whispered to my ear. My eyes turned into pie plates as I almost choke on that bombshell.  
  
"You want to fuck a **_studen_** t!?"  
  
Byleth made a desperate shush, slamming her index against her lips as her head darted around and covered my mouth with her spare hand.  
  
"Not so loud!" She hissed. "Her age is about the same as mi-"  
  
Now she covered her mouth with both of her hands, gasping at her apparent faux pas.  
  
"Her?" I creased an eyebrow before doubling down on my refusal."Regardless of the small detail of her possibly not being homosexual-"  
  
"What-sexual?"  
  
"Whether someone is attracted to the same gender as them!" I hastily explained, still riled up by the brazen statement."Regardless of whether or not your target is much younger or whether or not he," I stopped, mentally correcting myself. Waving my index to punctuate, I rectifiedmy error"She is attracted to you… she is still a student of ours!"  
  
"Hence why I want you to take the blue lions, that way she is not one of my students!" Argued Byleth in exasperation, throwing her hands towards the ceiling. "Goddess, it's not that hard!"  
  
"It is still wrong!" I exclaimed aghast."She is a student and you are a teacher!"  
  
"Bet you want to do a student or two to!" She accused me in the most petty voice she can muster, at this my temper rose and I took off my left hand's glove. "whoa!" She managed to say at the sudden invasion of her personal space.  
  
"See this?" I shove my hand next to Byleth's face. "I am a married man, married to a wonderful wife, of course I will not do a thing!" I proclaimed, indignant.  
  
Byleth tried to form an argument, but quickly made a gesture that silently said "touche".Undeterred, she folded her arms, gifting me with yet another accusatory glare.  
  
"What is your reason?" she nonchalantly asked as she craned her head a bit, her blue hair rustling slightly as she pouted.  
  
"They are meatheads," I deadpanned without wasting a second.  
  
Now it was her turn to make a face as she flinched from the sheer confusion.  
  
"They are what again?" She managed to ask. "Goddess, I need a dictionary with you!"  
  
"They are combat obsessed maniacs that cannot think beyond what will be the next thing they will hit with their sword," I explained in a tone that would have made Blackadder sound positive."I swear they will drive me insane within a month."  
  
You'd think I had grown a second head, given the way she looked at me.  
  
"That is a horrible reason," she concluded."This is an officers academy, of course they want to hit things with their swords."  
  
"The black eagles don't fit that profile," I countered petulantly. She tried to form a reply but instead paused and stared at me as if I had grown a third head. When was the last time Byleth blinked?  
  
"That is a horrible reason," she flatly stated.  
  
"Better than 'hurr hurr, I want to pork a student" and just before she asked, I clarified my expression. "Fuck a student," I mentioned solemnly.  
  
"Huuuuh," she rubbed her chin."Not a bad slang," Byleth then made an impish smile."Will use it on that student of yours."  
  
"No you will not use that expression with that student of _yours,"_ at this point I was being pigheaded.  
  
We stared at each other, sparks flying between us. I tensed my left arm in anticipation, while she unfolded hers. Both us knew there was but one choice.  
  
_Now!_  
  
"Rock paper scissors!" We shouted in unison, our hands flying to meet each other.  
  
I got paper, she had scissors.  
  
"Damn fuck!" I furiously whines as I slammed my hat against the floor.  
  
Byleth celebrated, pointing her index finger at me.  
  
"Oh yeah, take that, bitch!"  
  
"You are not fucking one my students!" I boomed in anger, pounding my chest with my thumb.  
  
She puffed her chest and spared a smug, shit eating grin for me.  
  
"Just as you tried to stop me from teaching the black eagles?"  
  
"Oh," I said, my voice brimming with thinly veiled fury. My hand slipped to my rapier's hilt."I can still solve that issue. Permanently."  
  
"Why is it that I always find you two on the verge of killing each other?" Both of us sprung backwards,my hands swiftly clasping each other behind my back at Seteth's remark. With a desperate groan he further added. "No, seriously, why?"  
  
"We are leaving that for after the first class!" I proclaimed amicably, earning a desperate groan from the de-facto director and an amused snort from my fellow troublemaker. "We were actually discussing the tutoring distribution."  
  
We shifted the subject from Byleth's skirt chasing to the class assignment. Seteth relaxed a bit, but he was still colder than a russian winter.  
  
Once we entered the studio we were greeted by the other four teachers. Hanneman was arguing with Mannuela, the former opera singer. The brunette teacher/nurse/cleric was a helluva looker, and I could barely repress the urge of looking at her chest, an urge that Byleth mirthfully partook in.  
  
Murdoch… sorry, no. Murdoch Rudolf-Ludwig Bellefornde Von und Zu Paddenberg was an imposing man. He got his square jaw all covered by a 3 day beard, glorious ravenwing sideburns and mane, and a pair gray eyes so penetrating that I am positive they would get a maiden pregnant with a stare. Either the gaze or the sexy ass cavalry officer uniform would do that. He made a comical contrast with his fellow teacher, Annegretta, who was a diminutive elder woman that could be aptly described as 'grandmotherly', down to her choice of attire, appearance and mannerisms.  
  
We greeted each other, partook in banal pleasantries and started sketching the calendar for the start of the year.  
  
“Well, I guess the field is ready for the mock battle, Murdoch?” Inquired Seteth as he checked another item of the order of the day.  
  
“Yes, the first years will be able to wage it the day after tomorrow.”  
  
“Wait, are we really starting the year with a mock battle?” I blurted out, forgetting to filter my thoughts.  
  
The other six teachers spared me a brief glare, with Hanneman nodding in confirmation.  
  
_Let me get this straight. Their modus operandi is: 'meet your fellow students. Now ""kill"" them, have at them!.' Like...These guys will be at each other's throats_  
  
“With all due respect,” I started, getting the attention of the other teachers again. I paused for a second, grasping for the right word. “But I think it’s not the best idea to start up the year with what basically amounts to ‘whack the outlanders’... not sure if I am getting my point across.”  
  
"Your point being, exactly?" Inquired Murdoch.  
  
"That this is the promotion where we should try to breed out cooperation rather than competition.  
  
Murdoch winced, more confused than before thanks to my poor choice of words.  
  
"I honestly see the point he is making," stated Byleth with the ghost of a knowing smile drawn on her face. “We should be aiming for activities that generate camaraderie between the houses, rather than breed an ‘us versus them’ mentality that will breed conflict and strife in the larger field of politics and realms."  
  
“But we do that every year!” complained Murdoch.  
  
"Here is the thing, this is not a regular year!" I countered while raising my index to add emphasis. "We have the Heir apparents to the thrones of Faerghus and Adrestia, as well as the scions of several of the main houses of Leicester," I paused for a brief strained chuckle. "This is not your run of the mill class."  
  
"I must agree with Kragan,"injected Hanemman in an even handed tone. "In addition to the royals we have many more high ranking nobles: fraldarius, aegir, goneril," he named a few more before making an emphatic pause, his shaky smile dreading the possible bad outcomes. "While it's true that the monastery has always prided itself with training the future of Fódlan, such a statement has never been truer, and what happens in the following two years will mark the political landscape for a generation, which means we cannot afford to neither ill will nor youth vendettas fester under watch, much less promote them!”  
  
“Just to be clear,” began Seteth in a non-committal murmur. “What is your plan?” my proposal sent most of the other teachers gasping. “No,” shot down the clergyman in a knee jerk reflex. “We tried doing that years ago, and with atrocious results. Granted, that promotion was a-”  
  
“Seteth, Seteth,” Annegrette said as she gestured to the man to stop. “We don’t talk about that promotion, we agreed to.”  
  
“And for the better,” curtly said Murdoch.  
  
“But that was a decade ago!” countered Hanneman. “Clearly the situation is different enough."  
  
We argued for a solid half an hour. Manuela was being kind of morose while Seteth and Kristina did bring a very important point to the table. Murdoch just stopped participating and merely listened to our arguments.  
  
“Time out!” I groaned as I rubbed my temples tiredly. “Time out! We’re going in circles.”  
  
“We should just put it down to a vote, and let the majority decide,” demanded Hanneman. I hadn't talked much with the man, but his mannerisms were radically different from what I had come to associate with his usual fare. The man was being much, much brusque and forceful than before. He stared hard at Seteth, who stood up for the challenge. "Truly, I think my colleagues agree with this course of action, Seteth.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, that's chapter 2. Yes. Byleth actually can articulate emotions, because I feel doing a repeat of that kind of route is rethreading the main game a wee bit too much. Also, it's boring to write wooden planks. I just cannot do that with such a central character.


	3. Chapter 3: the mock battle (prelude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly minted teacher proceeds with bothersome class assignment.

**Chapter 3. The mock battle (prelude** )  
  
I woke up as the sun’s first rays grazed my face, eliciting a groan as my precarious sleep. From the other side of the wall, inside the room next door, I can hear professor Manuela sob and grunt. Guess her latest date had failed miserably, ‘ _as usual_ ’, as Hanneman would say.  
  
 _It's kinda sad, frankly._ Hopefully she would find the right man in a reasonable time frame. After a bit of sleepy dilly dallying, I remember an extremely small and unimportant detail.  
  
Today was the start of the semester.  
  
 _Fuuuuuck_.  
  
Grunting once again, and somehow managing to haul my ass and eternal drowsiness out of the bed, I got ready, got me breakfast, and set my notes for the first class, all while being halfway in a world of pain, yesterday was a back buster… And we had to begin the semester with a literal battle. Because fuck the syllabus.  
  
I did not want to lie to myself, though. There were butterflies on my stomach. A part of me was honest to god excited, to be honest. I would have liked to be a teacher, were it not for the saturation of little chucklefucks. Well, these would be preppy not-so-little chucklefucks. I am not so sure that is for the better or the worse.  
  
Deciding to not be too late on my first day, I departed. Trudging my way through the monastery, I cannot but help appreciate the transition of romanesque and gothic architecture. Garreg Mach looks like the middle point of both styles, with the ojival arcs intermingling with more older architectural features at points. Granted, I may as well have been talking out my ass, I had an entry level knowledge of architecture. At best.  
  
Garreg Mach was actually waaay bigger than I expected. Aside from the lodgings, the fucking Cathedral and the many assorted whatnots to keep prancing nobles and dandies busy was a literal town that was, technically, part of the monastery. On second thought maybe not, most likely I got that part wrong and I was doing crazy talk. Sure, the town was within the administration of the Monastery and all, but I was most likely mixing up shit like it was no one’s business.  
  
After a silent, peaceful walk, I finally saw the classroom building. The last of the second years sprinted their way inside. Lazily scratching my two day beard, I weighed down the pros and cons of actually arsing myself to run a bit, just before getting my rear nearly savaged by some brain addled oaf.  
  
“Be careful!” I shouted, irritated, as I almost fell face first into the ground. I turned rapidly, shooting a bloodshot stare that would whittle down a man to death.  
  
“You fuld be farful!”  
  
I blinked, grasping for a second just what the fuck I was looking at. Of course, the oaf had to be professor Byleth. The teacher still had a pretty severe bedhead, her locks of turquoise hair jutting out like a dragon’s teeth. And she… She was chomping on a slice of white bread.  
  
  
 _Are you god damn bloody kidding me, my dear lord jesus?_ The thought reverberated inside my head. Just. _I can’t even._  
  
“Goof murnin,” she muffled as she gulped down the last bits of bread, breaking my angery bafflement for long enough for me to say hello.  
  
“Why-why do we always end up meeting this way?” I commented as I helped her rise and, just like two days ago, almost got thrown into the ground.  
  
“Fate would have it so!” She said in a chippy tone as she dusted off her shorts.  
  
“Fate can eat a dick then,” I deadpanned almost instantly, earning a chuckle and a soft snort from her. I drew a thin smile.“Well, today is the day of the battle,” I said, turning the smile into a knowing grin.  
  
“Bet they are not gonna see this one coming,” added Byleth as she licked her lips in mirthful anticipation. I let a sudden cackle that started Byleth. "Begone, foul demon!" she yelped after her gasp. That just made me cackle harder.  
  
Almost as soon as we entered my brain finally started functioning up at full capacity and I remembered I had to ask her something important.  
  
“Hey B-”  
  
“Just because you keep your emotions bottled up behind your stupid stony face, well, it doesn't mean everyone else has to do the same!”  
  
The indignant shriek came from Manuela. As we craned our heads out of the corner we saw her, clad in her sumptuous green dress and white fur coat that fluttered as she angrily flailed and bellowed at an outraged Hanneman. We took a step back. Byleth’s lips were pursed so thinly they almost disappeared while I could feel my teeth holding on my lower lip. She rapidly cocked her head twice in the opposite direction of the bickering duo and, as their argument escalated towards newer heights of viciousness I silently nodded in agreement.  
  
We rapidly abandoned the soon-to-be-battlefield and took a detour towards the classrooms.  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
“Well, here goes my expectation of not being too late!” I complained as we finally reached the detour. From this side we could still hear the howling screeches of the two older teachers’ bickering.  
  
 _Jesus fuck._  
  
“Are they married by any chance?” Byleth fearfully asked as she blinked in disbelief.  
  
“Do they _even need_ to with that level of banter?” I shot back with another question, about as astonished as she was as I waved my hand, my motion mimicking that of a broom sweeping the tidal wave of bile the two teachers spewed at each other.  
  
Which reminded me of what I had to ask Byleth for.  
  
“Hey Byleth, can i ask you a favour?"  
  
"I am not giving you the tutoring of the black eagles," she quickly responded, as if reading my mind, while she pointed her index finger at me, without giving me a single glance. I ground my teeth for a second.  
  
"Pretty please?”  
  
"No."  
  
 _Grind grind._  
  
"Oh, c'mon, surely there is-  
  
"No."  
  
 _Grind grind grind._  
  
Silence reigned supreme between the two of us for a second.  
  
“Best of three,” I challenged Byleth while I prepared my hand for another round of rock paper scissors.  
  
She turned and glared at me, her lips silently spelling her answer before she loudly repeated it.  
  
“No,” she said, dragging the o for a bit as her grin became wider.  
  
I took a step back as I took a breath to calm me down for a moment.  
  
“Well, fuck you,” I cursed at her as I began turning to the classroom.  
  
“Fuck you harder,” she retorted back at the speed of lightning as she made her way towards her classroom.  
  
I had taken a step but I froze in place. Not intent on letting that down, the petty child in me decided to go one step further.  
  
“No, fuck you the hardest," and before she could say anything else I sprinted towards my classroom.  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
 _Damn it, he got the best of me this time._ She was livid and amused in equal measure. Kragan was a nice change of pace from the majority of the stone faced mercs his dad had insisted on selecting and hiring for the company. For all crankiness the man packed, Byleth enjoyed the vacuous arguments and mindless little games they were often engaged in. The young gramps was growing up on her. _But enough about the little gramps, now its time to meet the students._  
  
  
“Hello everyone!” said Byleth with a beaming smile.  
  
As she entered she took stock of the classroom. Princess Edelgard was almost doll-like. Her porcelain skin matched her ivory flowing mane and the stark white embroidery that graced her uniform's chest. And those lilac eyes. Those gorgeous purple eyes. Byleth would gladly spend hours inspecting their depths Then she saw Dorothea.The former opera songstress was a feisty one, in all likelihood, she thought took note of her body language. Byleth's gut told her that the mercenary had no chance with her, a pity.  
  
And ho boy, Petra. It took all her willpower to not drool at the foreign princess. Because ho boy.... S-speaking about the boys… They existed, m'kay? One was sleeping; another looked like an hyperactive chipmunk; the tall brunette needed to either get laid or get that bundle of sticks dislodged out of his ass; and the redhead looked like he was about self fellate at any moment.  
  
 _Yeah. Don't sweat the drooling, I am better off with my four beauties_. With that thought she stopped in her tracks.  
  
"Isn't a student missing?" Inquired Byleth.  
  
"Ah, yes professor," said Edelgard, a marveled glow filling her eyes as she drew an expectant smile. "Bernadetta's in her room… she wasn't keen on partaking in today's mock battle."  
  
  
 _Oh shit_. That would fuck over the plan. Badly. “Get her here, now!” Exclaimed Byleth, earning a small scowl from the princess.“We need everyone for today, we just- we just cannot do this with missing personnel, m’kayl!” she tried to come up with an excuse or motive but just gave up halfway.  
  
Ferdinand, the redhead, cleared his throat before quibbling.  
  
“Well, actually, we just only ne-” He began before trailing off and squirming at the whittling glare Byleth fulminated him with. “Yes, I will go search her!” He rectified as he regained his energetic demeanor.  
  
“Hubert’s already on the way,” said Edelgard with the smallest hint of disdain in her voice.  
  
“Hah, then I will beat your retainer!” Proclaimed the redhead. “By vanquishing your lieutenant in this contest of speed and efficiency I shall prove my superiority over Edelgard!”  
  
 _Yup, he looks proficient at self fellating._  
  
The Aegir darted out of the room, paying no heed to the imperial princess’s eye roll and the chuckles from Dorothea. Byleth stood there for a second with her mouth agape, her eyes squinting a bit, as she tried to figure out what was exactly going on with that boy. With a shrug, she clasped her hand and made a mirthful smile.  
  
“Oh well,” she managed to say right before the second shrug. “Let’s start the plans for today’s battle, shall we?”  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
Prince Dimitri was expectant, nervous even. The crown prince did a cursory glance, gauging his companions.  
  
"He is late," tentatively commented the prince as once again he rivetted his gaze into the empty desk.  
  
"Indeeeed," commented his friend Sylvain as he stretched like a cat before starting to rise up."Well, he clearly couldn't make it, so there is no need to s- auch!" The redheaded man, once he was almost fully upright, had been pulled back into his seat by his companion Ingrid. With a flutter of her long, massive even, braid she turned at Sylvain and directed a steel-filled glare.  
  
"Yes there is need to stay," she mandated. Her voice left Sylvain with no wiggle room. Thus, Sylvain sat properly, not uttering a single word.  
  
 _But what possibly c-_  
  
“Greetings, students!” Boomed the teacher in a faux amicable tone. His shrill voice drilling Dimitri’s eardrums and startling half the class. The prince, and the rest of the Blue Lions, turned to greet the source of that earbusting shout.  
  
Enter a man in his mid-to-late thirties. He was clad in a red and black puffy outfit, which made Dimitry think of clowns for a brief moment. The attire clashed against his dark complexion, which made the prince think he was of Almyran stock.  
  
"Pardon the delay," began the man in a brisk voice as he quickly straddled the distance to the teacher’s desk. "Let's begin the introductions, shall we?" He proclaimed loudly. "I am Kragan Harkund, and I will be your tutor for the following two years."  
  
 _Will my eardrums last that long!?_ Thought Dimitri worriedly.  
  
"And, as unbelievable as it may sound," he began, stopping for a few seconds as he ran his gaze through the room, sizing them up. "I am 25 years old, hopefully I will live long enough to match the ancient age I appear," he deprecatingly said as Anette gasped in startled surprise.  
  
Dimitri flinched in surprise at that, though he was diplomatic enough as to not make such a spectacle. Sylvain snickered for a moment briefly of getting a smack from Ingrid. The two of them barked and bickered at a low, barely audible voice. Felix, as per usual, just glowered at him. Professor Kragan’s gaze darted around the classroom, making a thin, nervous smile in the process. The silence extended for a few seconds and Dimitri couldn’t help but think how awkward this felt. Shooking his head, the man finally lapsed back into reality and spoke in a more uncertain, if still deafening, pitch.  
  
“Right, right,” he said before an idea crossed his mind. With an uncertain grimace, he thunderously asked. “So how about we do some introductions!?”  
  
Dimitri felt compelled to speak and began the introductions in lieu of his classmates, who still reeled at the bizarre man's mannerisms. Soon, though, he realized the extent of his folly, as his words failed to describe Dedue's stalwartness or the cheerfulness and hidden thoughtfulness Sylvain was capable of. He did a great dishonour to Felix and Ashe's resourfulness or the valiant and selfless character of Ingrid. To say nothing of the disservice he did when talking about Mercedes kindness or Anette's dogged brilliance.  
  
Once he finished the prince bitterly bit his lip for a second before bracing for the eventual disapproval of the companions he had unseemingly disgraced. One just needed to look at the petrified professor. He most likely horrified.  
  
"Wow, I gotta say," he paused, marshalling his thoughts."That was indeed an effusive eulogy,like"he whistled before clapping thrice "Holy shit, you guys, your prince almost enshrined as saints, you have to treasure this cinnamon roll!" He concluded with a lighthearted chuckle. A chorus of mutters followed through, and Dimitri could see smiles drawn on their faces. He hadn't done that bad a job.  
  
"I am tired of the boar's grunts," growled Felix. "Let's get to the mock battle, I want to trample them.  
  
At Felix gruff statement's, the teacher's face soured. He scowled and grunted in clear displeasure.  
  
"Yeah, the battle, because this is apparently the way," complained the professor in an exasperated voice. "Fuck the syllabus, just whack at each other," he cursed, putting special emphasis on the f-word as he made a dismissive swipe, as if swatting aside a ghostly debator. "Surely you will learn something or get brain damage and you do not need further education, either way it’s a win" he grumbled before regaining his focus. “But I digress, let's talk about the plans for this _epic_ battle!" Somehow, the sarcastic way he said that made Dimitri's skin crawl.  
  
=== 0 ===  
Jeralt sat on a stump on the edges of the verdant field where the mock battle would take place. From time to time, the mercenary eyed his surroundings in a cuasi paranoid fashion, wary of any would-be-spies set up by Rhea. He wanted to leave as soon as possible, given he didn't trust the archbishop at all, not after what he had done to Byleth. Jeralt scowled as he recalled the _hunger_ that filled the arch-bishop's eyes when they laid on her daughter's.  
  
Memories of those days poured back and his mood further soured. When she had been born, Byleth didnt cry, nor did she laugh. She was nigh on emotionless and vacant. It hadn't been til age twelve that his daughter had actually started showing emotions. While she was now an energetic lady, she had not cried nor laughed during their first years, not a single time. The memory sprung into Jeralt's mind's eye. The mercenary danced on the verge of death, gored by a stray javelin. He had been in and out of the realm of the living for two days until he'd heard the sniffling sobs of Byleth.  
  
Jeralt smiled.That display of emotions, that ray of hope, gave Jeralt the strength to hold on the realm of the living. As painful as the days before had been, her daughter's pleas washed away the pain, for from that moment onwards, his daughter had grown by leaps and bounds. Though he did err badly in only hiring men in his company. Byleth had grown to be extremely uncouth and she was ravenous in her skirt chasing. At least those pitchforks brow beated into her the concept of 'bedding three wifes at the same time is a bad idea.'  
  
He let out another smile at that remembrance, a brief one, for his face swiftly morphed back into a scowl as he lurched on his would be infiltrator. The bladebreaker blitzed his target, using his bulk to smash the intruder against the ground. He did do nothing more, for Jeralt quickly recognized Alois, his former colleague.  
  
"Sharp as ever!" Commended the knight. "You performed the maneuver with **_smashing_** results!"  
  
Groaning at the terrible pun, Jeralt helped his former apprentice back on his feet. Alois beamed a radiant smile at the mercenary, his stark white teeth flashing for a second. Jeralt drew a smile too, though more restrained and weary.  
  
"What brings you here Alois?" Asked Jeralt as he made to sit back.  
  
"Oh I am going to help your daughter with the new mock battle format!"  
  
Jeralt grimaced. While he had utmost confidence in his daughter's skills, Jeralt doubted she was disciplined enough to stick to the syllabus. Thankfully Alois could assist them. Wait.  
  
"You are helping them?" He managed to ask in disbelief. What was this new format thing?  
  
Alois gasped, realizing his Faux-pas.  
  
"Oh,oh! It is a secret, I cannot divulge any further information," he said as he began hurrying out and abandoned an increasingly confused Jeralt."Just pay attention to the mock battle.  
  
He now had some serious sense foreboding. "Kiddo…" he mumbled.  
=== 0 ===  
  
Edelgard was exultant today, for in this first battle she would triumph.  
  
 _The first of many succesess._  
  
It had to be. She needed to. Perfection was the minimum. And perfection she would achieve with her battle plan and the assistance of Professor Byleth and her companions.  
  
She puffed her chest a bit in pride, her lips twitching into the ghost of a smile for a split second. She chastised herself. She would sing her brilliance once they had won, not before.  
  
"This year, we will tweak things somewhat," bellowef professor Kragan, snapping Edelgard back to reality. He had an evil grin plastered over his face. “But I digress! First, let’s settle things up, then we will explain to you the surprise! Blue lion team, set forth upon hearing your name!"  
  
After a chorus of fairly halfhearted ‘yes’ the professor began running through the list.  
  
  
"Dimitri Alexandre Blayddid, Mercedes von Martitz, Felix Fraldarius, Ingrid Galatea,” began Professor Kragan. He coughed, cleared his throat and continued, a mirthless smirk on his face."Hubert von Vestra, Bernad-"  
  
"What!?" Von Vestra, startled, shouted in utter shock.  
  
“Hubert Von Vestra, please step in with the selected team,” droned the professor, holding the murderous and equally confused glare of the noble with impervious calm. “The explanations are set after organizing the groups!”  
  
“But I am of the Black Eagles, surely you must not be so bl-”began the agitated student.  
  
“I am going to start delivering failing marks!” roared the professor, a vein of his neck popping up as he was not intent on wasting a single second."On a class by class basis," he hissed calmly at the retainer.  
  
Springing from his spot, Hubert sprang from his position next to Edelgard just before she could shove the loyal retainer onwards, rewarding the professor with a murderous glance.  
  
  
Professor Harkund drew a gentle smile, bowed down a bit and continued with the list.  
  
“Thank you very much,” said the professor chippy, before going back to his list. " Ahem...Bernadetta von Varley, Ignatz Victor and Raphael Kirsten, please step forth!”  
  
The blue lion team formed, its members staring at each other awkwardly and clearly wondering what was going on.  
  
Which was something also Edelgard wondered about.  
  
At this point massive ruckus had broken out. The students murmured and shouted in  
equal measure, trying to figure out. Amidst the chicanery, Edelgard stood still, frozen.  
  
Her plan was being blown up to bits in front of her very own eyes.  
  
Frowning, she followed in Hubert’s steps and tried to murder the damnable teacher with her own glare, but the man proved to be too thickskinned or oblivious.  
  
"Ordeeer! Ordeeeer!" Shouted the damned teacher as he could barely restrain his chortle. "Ooordeeeerr!" He was clearly not doing it seriously.  
  
Impervious, Hanneman stepped forth.  
  
  
“Golden deer team, please step forth upon hearing your name!” began Hanneman. “Claude von Riegan, Leonie Pinelli, Lorenz Gloucester, Marianne von Edmun, Dedue Molinaro, Annete Dominic, Linhardt von Hevring and ferdinand von Aegir.  
  
Yes. Out of the initial line up, Edelgard was the only fighter left.  
  
"M'kay!" Cried professor Byleth as she clasped her hands together. "The rest with me!"  
  
"Don't be lazy and do your job," complained professor Harkund as he tiredly dragged the words.  
  
With a groan the blue haired mercenary grabbed the list.  
  
"Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dorothea Arnault, Petra Macneary, Caspar von Bergliez… Lysithea -am I reading it right!?- von Ordelia, Hilda Goneril, Ashe Ubert and Sylvain Gautier!"  
  
 _Just what in blazes do they have in mind._  
  
The princess wasnt sure about whether or not he would like the answer.  
  
===0===  
  
As the very confused groups of students finally assembled, professor Kragan cleared his throat.  
  
"The focus of today's exercise will be twofold," bellowed Kragan as he took the speaking role again. "But before that I want to ask you the following: which is the first casualty in a battle?"  
  
Silence was all he received for an answer.  
He clicked his tongue in annoyance but pressed on, undeterred.  
  
"Prince Dimitri, I am positive you remember the plan we devised during the class, don't you," upon receiving an affirmative nod he made an mirthless grin."Can you follow through that plan now?"  
  
"Well, certainly not, we are missing all the fighters that would assist me, bar Mercedes" argued the prince in an uncertain voice, his eyes shimmering with a glint of confusion.  
  
Content with the answer, Professor Kragan began circling the line of students like a vulture, his eyes those of a bird of prey. He repeated the same question and got the same response twice, bringing him to a halt as he stared at the students. He was stripping them to the bone as he drew the ghost of a smile and returned to his original spot. Halting once more, shifting meticulously like a snake about to gobble its prey, he began to speak.  
  
"The first casualty is the battleplan," he began in a thunderous voice. "Virtually no plan truly survives past the first contact, this due to what is called fog of war: the uncertainty regarding one's own capability, of an adversary's capability and intent, be it during an engagement, operation, or campaign," he explained passionately. The students began to mutter again, confused, eliciting a vicious grin from the man, his eyes glinting earnestly. "While this is a crude approach, one of our goals today is to gauge your capability to add to such scenarios," he once again paused, his grin utterly mirthless. "Half of your team are outsiders, unknown variants, and you will be facing forces of an yet to be determinated composition. Your plan has been blown to kingdom come and your job will be to *adapt*."  
  
The mutters just turned into moans of complaint. Dimitri's throat felt parched  
  
"As for the second objective of today", Harkund turned to professor Hanneman and courteously gestured to him to continue."Hanneman, if you may? This time professor Hanneman stepped onwards. As he adjusted his monocle, he began the exposition.  
  
"I am proud to say that yours will an historic class!" He began as he extended his left arm towards the sky. "Many of you will take vital positions, thrones included, of your nations," Dimitri blushed so hard he took a while to hear him again."-Which means that we, as your teachers, need to help you build bonds between the houses and, eventually the three nations of Fódlan!" Deathly silence reigned as the words sank in. Dimitri soon realized what he was getting at. Hubert too, judging by his increased pallor and rigidness. "In other words. We want the three houses to work alongside, not against," he waggled a finger.  
  
"You have to be kidding," breathlessly muttered Hubert. He was almost gagging at the proposition.  
  
"C-can I go to my room then?" Timidly asked Bernadetta as she shivered and fidgetted. "I can help the hous-" she began before being fulminated by Hubert's glare. She did stay put after that, her face unnaturally agape.  
  
"Not only will you have to work with members of the other houses, but also protect them  
  
"Wait, did she faint on her feet?" Incredulously asked Ignatz in between the explanation.  
  
Dimitri shook his head. That sounded preposterous and distracted him for a second.  
  
"-by tying the success of this operation to the survival of the house leaders and A student of each house… that forms part of a different group!"Exclaimed Hanneman before pointing the humble fortification that stood on a nearby hill."Your objective will be to storm the fort, facing the 3 units of enemy soldiers," Hanneman clarified. "If the aforementioned students make it to the 'throne room' the three houses will pass, if not it will be a class wide failing mark."  
  
Pandemonium broke at that last remark. The prince balked at that remark and shot a glare at Hubert who stood still in silent seething.  
  
 _By the goddess, this will be a disaster._  
  
“Very well, students," began Hanneman, paying no heed to the complaints. "It’s time to plan for the assault to Fort,” Hanneman read the name written in the paper sheet. Then paused, adjusting his monocle in disbelief. “Fortius?” He managed to say in utter bafflement A few students stoped their complaining snickered and Dimitri could see from the corner of his eye how the Von Riegan heir was chuckling. He had been calm all this time.  
  
Both Kragan and Hanneman turned towards Byleth and pointed accusatory glares at her, she in return apologetically shrugged and made an awkward smile, her eyes crinkling a bit as the other two all but silently shouted _You had one job. ONE. UNO_  
  
With plenty of grumbling and indignant whining the groups set to move to their designated locations, the professors joining the teams.  
  
"You were right,Ignatz," Dimitri heard behind his back one of the golden deer, Raphael. "She fainted!"  
  
 _Wait what._  
  
It couldn't be, right? He asked to himself as he rapidly turned.  
  
Bernadetta fell against the floor, limp and unmoving. Thankfully, Raphael grabbed her in the nick of time. Dimitri's jaw almost dislocated at such a surreal feat.  
  
 _By the goddess, this **will** be a disaster. _He echoed.  
  
"Lol!" Muttered professor Harkund before snickering a bit.  
  
"Lol?" Asked a completely confused Dimitri. The professor's lips tightened as his eyes unconfortably avoided the prince's. Truly he was a bizarre man.  
  
"Eh, it's a long explanation." He equivocated before stretching his whole body and groaning. He shifted the subject“Ah, reminds me of the day before Cartenau!” Exclaimed professor Kragan pensively.  
  
“Oh, are you regaling us with tales past battles now?" Ventured Dimitri in an attempt to break the ice. "A glorious triumph, I take?" He asked with a shy smile.  
  
“Do you want to hear the truth or a yes?” deadpanned the teacher, before breaking a nasty laugh.“I’m pulling your leg, boy” His teacher slapped Dimitri’s back, throwing the prince off balance.  
  
“Oh, so it was a good battle?” Dimitri asked hopefully as he regained his footing.  
  
“Oh no, it was a Calamity in its own right!” exclaimed Kragan, his eyes widening, his face turning a little somber. “The lie was that this resembles that fucking disaster of a day, let's hope we dont get a repeat of it, shall we?” The way he ended up that statement with a somber chuckle made Dimitri shiver a bit.  
  
 _Can't we get another teacher?_  
  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
  
EDIT: I completely forgot that the battle of house rivalry happens at the end of the first academic month. Well, can tweak add that one for another chapter.  
  
Edit: I also forgot that petra is somehow 15. Congrats Petra, you are 17 now. Also. I know byleth is meant to be unemotional at this stage, but I find it boring to write such a prominent character as a wooden plank, plus I did rp my byleth as a troublemaker.  
  
Also. I am looking for a beta reader.


	4. Side chapter 1: Warrior of light missing.

Side Chapter 1: Warrior of Light missing.  
  
Revenant’s Toll sat just shy north off the center of Eorzea itself. The city, built upon the blasted fields of Mor Dhona, where the free peoples of Eorzea had battled the Garleans 6 years ago, was a bustling having for adventurers. Overlooking the walled settlement stood Rowena’s house of splendors, and crowning the bustling trading complex was a sumptuous cafe.  
  
In one of their tables,H'amneko Odh, one of the four Warriors of Light, inspected her fellow travellers.  
  
Thancred was finishing his inspection of the gear he’d been given. A facsimile of the apparel he’d worn during their last adventures in the First. The white long coat over the silver armor was a nice touch, to be honest.  
Meanwhile Urianger, the elezen scholar, once again shuffled his astrologian’s tarot. For a second she swore she saw his pointy ears slightly twitch.  
Now, Y’shtola’s ears were indeed twitching. The Miqo’te,or as Graf drunkenly said sometimes ‘the catgirl’, could barely hide her joy, just by the way her tail swept around her elegant black dress.  
  
On the next table, Ermina and Alphinaud were playing cards. The young white haired elezen apparently had the upper hand, given that the Ala Mhigan girl smashed her head in frustration against the table, groaning as one of her tanned hands ran through her white gold locks of hair.  
  
 _She may be a warrior of light, but damn she cannot tell a lie to save her own life._  
  
Granted, her straightforwardness, while annoying at times, was one of her strong points.  
  
  
And then there was Raha. She turned and gifted the young Miqo’te a smile as radiant and warm as the sun itself. They had greatly feared the boy wouldn’t make it back home.  
  
 _And lo and behold, it all proved to be mere fretting. Just look at him fuzzing over his new uniform. Oh my goodness, he’s so cute. Once Honeybun sees him, he’s gonna pinch his cheeks to kingdom come._  
  
Speaking of the devil, Graf entered the terrace. The other warrior of life, who had delayed their return to Mor Dhona with Kragan, stood there awkwardly with a nervous smile. Like all roegadyn, he was a towering and stocky man, his hirsute black beard clashing against his light red skin. His light gray eyes flickered with a bit of fear, his blocky nose twitching a bit.  
  
“Graf!” greeted Y’shtola with a mellow voice. “Took you so long!”  
  
He stood there, his jaw grinding a bit, as he pondered his thoughts. The other fellows began staring at him, dread rising up.  
  
“Kittie,” began Graf with a slightly shaky voice. “Promise you’re not gonna kill me.”  
  
  
  
“W-what did just happen?” She asked, a small tremor betraying her voice.  
  
“Kragan just got lost between our trip back from the first,” announced Graf dramatically. “He got lost in between worlds.”  
  
That word lit the powder keg. The other scions boomed out in both outrage and disbelief. Ermina raised her head in disbelief. G’raha Tia blanched as he covered his face in disbelief as Amneko crumbled down.  
  
“How-how…. HOW can you lose the warrior of light!?” She managed to say in strangled horror as she gestured her husband’s rubenesque body shape. “It’s an adult man clad in red and a big hat! How can you lose that!?”  
  
“I don’t think he got lost in that sense of the word,” pointed out Thancred. “Pardon the smar-”  
  
“I KNOW!” she roars back in a mixture of terror and wrath, pulverizing the white haired man with a bloodshot stare.  
  
“Welp, time to dig his grave, and _honor_ him,” began Ermina as she rose with a ginger smile. “Juuuust the way he wanted.”  
  
“Ermina,” Alphinaud winced, knowing full well what she meant. “That’s just churlish!”  
  
“You’re not dancing on my husband’s grave, Ermina,” chastised Amneko, her eyes narrowing down, her tail tensing.  
  
“Twelve preserve us,” cursed Graf, covering his bandana with his hand as he braced for yet another repeat of their usual bickering. “Not this again, not now,” he pleaded in a tired groan.  
  
“Not while you’re awake, that’s for sure,” admitted Ermina calmly.  
  
Sparks flew between the two Warriors of light for a moment.  
  
“He’s… he’s lost.”  
  
Amneko turned and saw Raha, now sitting on the stone steps, his hands covering his head and flattening his red hair as he muttered those 2 words like a terrified mantra.  
  
“Raha, don’t fret,” said Amneko, half reassuring him, half reassuring herself, as she went on to clasp the youth’s shoulders. “If there’s a truth in this Star is that not even death itself has the stones to bear with my husband.”  
  
 _We still need to find him._  
  
And that was the most terrifying part of it all. Where did they begin?  
  
“What did I just miss?”  
  
Everyone in the group turned, half startled, after Alisae returned from dealing from that rampaging pack of beasts. The young lady’s attire was marred with blood and the odd bit of entrails splattered over her dark gray skirt and cream coloured jacket. Her bloodsoaked blade trembled a bit from her barely veiled excitement and her youthful face was marked by the most joyful smile anyone had ever seen.  
  
“Yeaaah,” Graf’s grimace just became more tense. “I should have waited for you... boy this will be painful.”  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
AN: I've actually been debating how to tackle this, and I've come to the following decision: once in a while I will make side chapters depicting the Eorzean side of things (that is prior to the inevitable convergence). Be they of the current day or flash backs of sorts, they will dot the story. Some, like this one, will be quite short, a snap of the moment, though I want to make more meaty things like the battle of Gymhliht dark and some tweaks to the FFXIV story line.


	5. Chapter 4: the mock battle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the three houses of Fódlan team up at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: NO GODDESS WAS HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS CHAPTER.

Rhea solemnly forged her way across the rows of spectators, the crowd parting away in reverent awe as she straddled forward, gifting anyone bold enough to stare at her a serene and blissful smile, and inspected the field til she found Seteth perched against the fence that marked the edges of the mock battle’s field.  
As per usual, he wore his trademark royal blue with gold trim dress, the cream coloured backside of his cape fluttering a bit whenever the gusts of wind from the east grazed the visibly mortified man. A careless man would say he was hyperventilating. That man would be right on the money, to be honest.  
  
“Cichol,” Rhea said in the softest and lowest of voices, breaking the man out of his daze while not compromising secrecy. His advisor had the look of a deer suddenly spotted by predators, the absurdity of which elicited a soft laugh from Rhea. “Oh please, you’re overdoing things, it’s not like that the students are heading towards a slaughterhouse.”  
  
Cichol didn’t reply, instead he perched again against the fence and weaved a basket with his fingers around one of the fence’s posts, his face filled with concern and his mind clearly stewing with some question the answer of which he was likely not gonna be pleased by.  
  
“I want to ask you something, Rhea,” he said, his voice a low growl. “All these loops and hoops, these risks we are students putting,” he put special emphasis on the last words as his worries came to the fore, his frown deepening and his jaw tightening. “Does that... does that mean he’s gained your trust this fast?” The question was almost rhetorical.  
  
Cichol's worrywarting made Rhea think of days gone by, of a time they and their people guided mankind with righteous wisdom. Those days were long gone, but Seteth still clung onto that legacy with an awe inspiring stubbornness. The thought rekindled long buried memories and she grimaced for a moment.  
  
“He hasn’t,” she said, her motherly voice cracking down as her tone became cold and calculating for a brief moment while she scowled. “He’s an unknown variable, worse, he is a liability,” there was venom poured over that last word, and a dark shadow crossed her face for a moment, just before she rebuilt the saintly facade. She mulled over her next choice of words, getting ahead of Seteth’s incoming question.  
  
“His arrival, though, is the will of the primogenitor god, we must discern its meaning before rushing to judgement,” she expeditiously proceeded to clarify. “That means keeping him close and content: if he has a desire, see to it; if he has an idea, pay heed to it; if he makes a mess, clean it...Most important of all: keep him unsuspecting,” the way she had spoken would have made one think she had lectured a child about the day’s chores.  
  
For a few moments the two of them stood silent, with the archbishop candidly gazing upon the students and her loyal aide praying his worst predictions did not become a reality.  
  
“That vision of mine showed me the path to the primogenitor god, but not every step on that road,” she broke the silence with a whisper, her voice now wistful, filled with weakness and frailty. “Regardless, at the end of this road, I have little doubt I will see mother’s smile again.”  
  
  
Seteth’s head janked towards Rhea, creasing an eyebrow, and saw her lost in the realm of memories, drifting to an era gone by and a gentle embrace. Remembering the ghosts of his own past, the former saint simply shook his head and further prayed for the student’s well being in this gambit.  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
The black eagle team had been assigned a starting next to the forest that sat on the edge of the battlefield. Lysithea profeetered from their deployment zone's features to scuttle away for a moment, slithering her way across the pine trees and bushes. Once she was sure there were no prying eyes, and with a tremoring hand, the petite white haired girl produced a piece of red velvet cake, her mouth watering up as her throat exhaled a gluttonous growl of anticipation. She turned around in paranoia, her pink iris shrinking with wariness. When she was satisfied with the lack of eyewitnesses, Lysithea partook in a little snack.  
  
"Oh… glorious, glorious cake," she praised and mumbled incoherently at the cake gods as she gorged on the heavenly treat. She moaned in ecstasy when she made a second bite, and her gaze almost blurred from the sheer pleasure the third bite induced her with. "Oh, this is truly the-'' she began to utter in utter delight before being cut off.  
  
"Lysithea?" Came the question from behind her back, causing the young girl to almost choke on the cake. It took Lysithea a few moments to recognize the voice's owner. Partly due to their lack of acquaintanceship and the lack of eye contact. Mainly, though, it was due to Lysithea's brain being sent into damage control. She turned and saw princess Edelgard, her brows furrowing a bit at the sight. "Is that-is that cake?" She managed to ask in utter bafflement.  
  
It was over. She would just expose her cake shoveling ways. It was all over for Lysithea. It was the end, the end! Why, one just needed to look at those pursed lips, those concerned lilac eyes flickering between Lysithea's cake filled mouth and the last bit of the damning pastry. Edelgard had seen Lysithea gobble cake by the fistful so the princess clearly ought to think of her as little more than a child.  
  
The cake. That was it. The cake, of course! A desperate last ditch plan quickly formed in her mind's eye.If she would die (of shame), she would die a colossus wreathed in the glory of a bold and daring charge and challenge! Let the world know that she, Lysithea von Ordelia, died in the name of the most delicious cake.  
  
Swallowing her last mouthful, the young girl walked proudly towards the princess, armed with the spongy baked good, and shoved it in front of the increasingly confused princess' mouth. Lysithea's eyes now ought to be burning from either madness or passion.  
  
"Eat it," commanded Lysithea with a voice filled with so much gravitas it would have made the haughtiest of kings kneel.  
  
Edelgard winced in disbelief, her gaze still flickering between the two of them. With a soft lick of her lips, the princess took on the offer, biting a chunk of the red velvet cake. Her eyes widened and a most pleased moan betrayed her stoic facade as she chewed that cut of heaven itself. She closed her eyes as she brought her spare hand to her lips and purred.  
  
“This, this is delicious,” the princess praised as she savoured the delicate aftertaste, her eyes closed, her smile placid. “Lysithea, was it? I must thank you for this treat, but we must hurry and plan out our strategy."  
  
Oh. Of course. They needed to sketch out a plan with everyone present, so they’d all be on the same page. She actually blushed and turned several shades of red, her gaze now nailed against the ground in shame. Such was her reaction that the remnants of the cake slipped from her grasp, earning a terrified cry from the princess.  
  
“The cake!” Edelgard yelled as she kneeled down, her snow-white man flailing wildly at the sudden motion, and snatched it on the nick of time. She sighed in relief as she craned her head, only to realize the magnitude of her faux-pas. Her face quickly turned to her serene and regal expression. “It-it would be a pity if such a delicious morsel would go to waste,” she said, the barest hint of a fluster betraying her voice. She paused doubt besieging her for a moment. “Mind if I finish it up?” Her eyes briefly glinted with hunger.  
  
At this request Lysithea couldn’t help but blink in utter astonishment, then shake her head in joy as a beaming smile graced her face: she had found a kindred spirit, with a sweet tooth to match, it appeared.  
  
“Of course! I can even make you more if you want!” Lysithea added, which clearly pleased Edelgard, who clearly fought the urge to squee in joy, instead settling for a dignified and gentle smile. Reminding herself of her situation, she shook Edelgard’s shoulder, urging her. “But we should get going or they will get angry at us!”  
  
“You mean ‘me, Lysithea,” Edelgard said between bites in a slightly indignant huff.  
  
“Us, me, you, doesn’t matter!” Hastily proclaimed Lysithea as she began shoving the princess, who gasped at the audacity of her peer.  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
"Shouldn't we be planning our attack, lord Claude?" The words rolled awkwardly out of Dedue's mouth. The duscur youth was not strange to dealing with people "above his station", but he had rarely ever, if at all, taken orders from people other than his highness. But his highness was on another front and the success of the Von Riegan would be the success of prince Dimitri, so he repressed a sigh and pressed the issue further. “Lord Claude, we need to set onwards,” he tersely begged.  
  
At this Claude von Riegan lazyly craned his head towards the towering duscur, his hands weaving a basket over his wild black mane, and stared blankly at Dedue for over a few seconds. Dedue withstood the stare, and for a moment he was convinced the Riegan's green eyes flickered like witchfire. After a tense moment, he made a cat-like smile.  
  
  
“Ah, don’t sweat the small stuff Dedue, though I appreciate your extreme talkativeness” playfully groaned Von Riegan. He stretched his whole body, meticulously hitting the angles where his bones would pop. Once again the feline comparison was apt.“I think we can wait for Ferdinand’s reconnoiter a bit more.”  
  
Dedue grunted in recognition as he turned and saw the rest of the group. The group used the rocky hillocks that covered their front as cover in order to prepare their weapons and engage in small talk, awaiting their commander so they could draft an attack plan. Their voices were barely background noise to Dedue, for a thought viciously gnawed at his mind.  
  
He was positive Claude wasn’t of Fodlander stock. He was not pureblooded, at the very least. His skin and complexion were dead giveaways, coupled together with his lackadaisical behavior, which clashed greatly with the usual stiffness this land’s nobles exhibited, and obscure origins. A crested heir just didn't pop up out of thin air.  
  
But where did he truly hail from? He asked himself, grinding his teeth with unease. His highness’ safety was paramount and, while exceedingly rare, Garreg Mach had witnessed regicides in its long history. The unknown connections the alliance lord could muster were too big a liability.  
  
"They are here!"Ferdinand snapped Dedue out of his musings as he ran his way down the hillock. The highborn redhead shouted once more, this time with the rest of the team's full attention and with a hint of concern. "Seven guards and a pair of knight of seiros!" The announcement sent shockwaves amongst the group.  
  
“Clever move, they most likely want to launch a pincer maneuver,” surmised Claude as he toyed with that small braid of hair of his. Claude made what appeared to be a playful smile, but Dedue was quick to note it didn’t reach his eyes. "First us and the black eagles, then the isolated Lions, not a bad move for Fodlanders, they are almost as clever as foxes” he muttered under his breath.  
  
Claude’s eyes met once more with Dedue’s and the duscur man had, yet again, to repress a shiver.  
“Fall back,” Claude’s voice changed drastically as he waved the rest of their group in the other direction. “We’ll not come on top in a head on engagement, let’s fall back!” For a last time he locked stares with Dedue, and quizzically cocked his head. "The plan has been set, you happy now?" He commented mirthfully. Dedue was about to make a retort but Claude tapped his temple. "It's all in here."  
  
This was for prince Dimitri, reminded Dedue to himself. Because, may the gods forgive, this man, somehow, made his skin crawl.  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
Ingrid and Hubert's eyes were interlocked, the two of them glaring at each other for what seemed an eternity as sparks literally flew between the imperial retainer and the knightly lady.  
  
Dimitri was impressed, almost perplexed, about how the duo had managed to degenerate into such a state of affairs so fast, it was quite a feat. The two golden deers were amicable enough, with Raphael being a man with a heart fitting his herculean stature and Ignatz being nothing short of a gentleman. Why, even the other black eagle wasn't being as problematic.  
  
He instinctively repressed a sardonic chuckle as he turned around and chastised himself for such a callous thought. Von Barley wasn't as confrontational as Hubert first and foremost because she still laid stone cold unconscious, parked against a tree.  
  
Unceremoniously, professor Kragan waddled through the knee high stalks of verdant grass as he lugged a bucket of water. The man paused a few steps away from the unconscious student. He squatted once, twice, thrice, his face contorted in an almost comical fashion as he took aim with the bucket, a task that proved pointless once he threw its content and the water wildly sprayed unto the purple haired girl’s petite frame. That did the trick, as Bernadetta gasped, her lithe frame convulsing in its entirety, then went on and flailed wildly and screamed incoherently, making the rest of the team snap their heads towards her  
  
"Someone get her to calm down!" Bellowed professor Harkund, pointing a finger at Bernadetta. Upon seeing that Hubert was the first one to step ahead he rapidly changed targets and directed his index at the retainer."Someone other than the ghoul!" He shouted exasperated and earned yet another hateful glare from Von Vestra.  
  
For a split second the group murmured, then Felix grunted in annoyance and stepped forth. With a peeved out expression he went towards Bernadetta, who noticed the sword on his hip. That sight made colour flee her face, her gray irises shrinking til they were prinpicks.  
  
"He has a weapon!" Shrieked Bernadetta in utter terror. She then flailed even more and moved at a blurring speed. Somehow, in the span of a single blink, she had pinned down the heir of Fraldarius. The crowd gasped in surprise, shattering Bernadetta's stupor and sending her once more into a bumbling screed, now apologetic, " _ImsosorryImsosorry  
ImsosorryImsosorryImsosorry_," she madly chanted at a dumbfounded Felix as she rapidly went down on her knees and bowed and rose her head like a preaching sinner swung the flail.  
  
The absurdity of that sight broke Dimitri and the prince began to laugh. First a chuckle, then, as the absurdity of the last few minutes began sinking, the laughter became more extreme, more fitful, his head craning up a bit. From the corner of his teary eyes he could see professor Kragan was howling with maddened laughter, his hands clutching his knees. After a good while, Dimitri's throat and stomach ached from the convulsions, and he could put an end to the raucous laughter.  
  
  
"This is surreal," muttered Dimitri between tears and heaves. Taking a deep breath to He rubbed his aching belly, his now irritated eyes running through his ragtag team. With a smile still plastered over his face, he spoke to the professor. “I hope you had planned for this contingency, professor.”  
  
  
  
“Don’t worry, I will haul your asses if need be,” nonchalantly proclaimed the professor with a cocksure grin. “Granted, I’d prefer you guys managed to stand on your two legs… or at least didn’t mutually kill each other,” he added dubiously, his eyes flickering between Huber and Ingrid and Felix and Bernadetta. He shook his head, swatting his hand against the air. “Don’t mind me being a worrywart: we didn’t devise this event with your failure in mind, again, I will haul your asses if need be.”  
  
“Truly you’re a beacon of confidence,” derided Hubert as he approached. He turned his attention to Dimitri, his glare hard and filled with disapproval. “Well, your highness,” he doused disdain on that last word. “Got any plans?”  
  
Dimitri nodded for a few seconds, pursing his lips while he mustered his thoughts. Once he reached a conclusion, the prince did give one final nod, content with his thought out decision.  
  
“I had a plan, but that plan relied on an entirely different scenario and set of forces,” explained Dimitri while he gestured to the rest of the team to approach. “I will not lie Hubert: I am no strategist, I am just too straightforward," Hubert scoffed in a way that made it clear he wasn't under that false pretense. Somehow, that came as a relief to Dimitri. "Thus, rather than risk our chances of success and put fellow students in harm’s way needlessly, I would ask your and the professor's counsel on this matter.”  
  
The statement clearly caught Von Vestra off guard, his befuddled face was proof enough, as was the instant-long stutter that fled his mouth. He quickly regained his stern expression, though and helped himself to some jabs. “Is this really the best Faerghus royal line can raise?” He sneered, the corners of his mouth barely twitching into a cold grin of superiority and his arms folding in a clearly confrontational posture. “My loyalty and services are pledged to lady Edelgard, someone, I must inform you, capable of doing something as simple as this.”  
  
“Aye, your master is an admirable and prodigious woman,” wholeheartedly agreed Dimitri, his eyes burning with passion. That caught Hubert further off-guard, though he was pleased with Dimitri’s admission. The prince further pressed the issue, quickly attacking the core of the matter. “Hence why I am asking for your assistance Hubert: Edelgard’s success is tied to mine. I’m not requesting your aid just for my selfish sake, but for everyone else’s, for your master’s!” concluded the prince as he clasped his hands against Hubert’s left hand. Whatever ideas the Von Vestra had about the prince, this wasn’t amongst them.  
  
“I am no strategist? How come he’s planned this encirclement, then?” muttered Hubert to himself, as he took now on how everyone’s eyes were bearing down on him, leaving him with no wiggle room. The prince was clearly a cunning man. “Very well, I shall lend my expertise,” he announced, this time with an audible voice, thinking ‘and next time I will be the one peering at your modus operandi’.  
  
“Fuck me sideways," Professor Kragan cursed with a hissing voice. Dimitri turned towards the professor and almost had to repress a surprised gasp at the flat out murderous face the professor was making, with teeth bared like wolf’s fangs. The strident noise that quickly followed made Dimitri mistakenly realize why.  
  
“Was that an explosion?” Wondered Bernadetta with a hint of appreciation.  
  
“It came from her Highness’ position,” confirmed Hubert, his teeth gritting frantically and his hands balled into shaking fists. “The bastards are aiming to take them out first and then encircle us, most likely.”  
  
"You heard that before any of us?” Muttered the astonished Prince, ignoring Hubert, before clasping Kragan’s shoulder. “Your senses truly are something else professor!” Acclaimed a truly impressed Dimitri.  
  
“We can praise his ears later,” pressed Hubert with a slight hint of urgency, anxiety glinting through his eyes, though his face was an otherwise impassable mask. "We have little time for chit chat."  
  
"Yes, our comrades need our help," stallwartly declared Dimitri as he clasped Hubert's shouldrr, choosing to ignore the fulminating glare of the gaunt mage. "Lets get this done Hubert."  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
"Did you forget you also have to t-" Sothis haughtily began before cutting herself off midway.  
  
Byleth, her face a stoney, impassive mask, cut through the distance that separated the two ladies with furious strides. Sothis tried to form a question but her voice died and devolved into a dumbfounded groan as her eyes turned to pie plates and her jaw slackened at Byleth's strange behavior. Once realization dawned on her, the girl tried, too late, to get away from the mercenary's grip. She turned and made to leave, but Byleth loped at the whimpering girl and burrowed the knuckles of her fists against the sides of Sothis head, drilling them in a roar of triumphant wrath.  
  
"Aaaaaaaaaah!!" pitifully cried the girl as Byleth sprung and raised her several feet above the ground, speeding up his torture and causing her to yell in further pain and turned her cheeks flush while tears ran down them. "It hurts! It hurts! It hurts so much!" She wailed before stopping on her tracks once her eyes met Byleth's and clearly saw that what she was looking at was not the face of mercy.  
  
"You little twerp!" Cursed Byleth as she grinded her teeth, her eyes throwing daggers at Sothis. "That is for making me almost vomit last time! Now we are even!"  
  
Sothis laid on the floor now, sobbing and sniffing uncontrollably. Running her hand through the mess of her face, the girl finally managed to speak, her voice cracking. “Even!? I saved your life!” responded Sothis, fiery with indignant anger. The effect was diminished by her still ongoing sobs and sniffs.  
  
“And how long have you been living rent free inside me?” Asked Byleth as she squatted, cupping her head with her hands, a vicious gleam filling her eyes. She clicked her tongue. “You know, when a mercenary dies during a contract, it’s customary for the widow or family to receive a pension for ten years, though it’s a paltry sum, just enough to sustain them so they can get by” explained Byleth calmly before stopping. She then smiled and continued with a faux-joyful tone, her smile widening and turning colder.  
  
“Yes, you could say we are paying their rent!” she concluded as she brought her hands together in a clasp. She paused for a second, her mind running the math. She left out a breath, accompanied by a vicious growl. The smile had reached its apex width and chill factor. Her eyes were filled with pure, undiluted evil, and her teeth made Sothis think of a hungry predator. “For all I know you've been living inside here since the day I was born, which means you are due rent for 24 years,” she raised a finger, her lips now pursed, as she slowly explained. “Now, I’m generous, and I will not account the interest rates, so you only owe me 14 years of rent.”  
  
  
“HUE!?” Screamed Sothis in utter bafflement while her hands flew towards her head in terror. “H-h-h-how am I supposed to pay!? I don’t have any money!” her voice cracked towards the end. As her tears now flowed from the sheer despair, she covered her face in shame and pain, her small frame convulsing and dreading the outcome.  
  
“Oh,” she gasped, her voice now ice. “Really… oh my, I will need to find other means of payment,” Byleth chuckled maliciously, her left hand clasping at Sothi’s shoulder, her right hand toying with her emerald hair. Sothis shivered once the meaning of her words sunk in, her eyes widening in horror.  
  
“No, please! I-I will find the money!” Sothis desperately begged as she tried to shake off the mercenary’s iron grip.  
  
“TOO LATE! I shall collect my payment NOW!” Thundered Byleth as she lifted sothis amidst her terrified cries once more… and proceeded to bridal carry her to the throne. She sat down and put the mysterious girl over her lap. To the utmost confusion of Sothis, Byleth proceeded to embrace, nay, cuddle her. She buried her face on the verdant mane. After a few seconds of ignoring the confused noises that uttered Sothis, Byleth finally made a delighted chirrup. “Ah, I could spend an eternity this way! You’re just too adorable!Seriously, how could someone this cute exist inside me without me knowing!?”  
  
“W-wait?” managed to beg the green haired girl in utter confusion. "Weren't you going to…y-you know…"  
  
“What? NO! You’re a kid!” Gasped Byleth, wincing at the proposition. She went silent for a few seconds. The double entendre finally sunk in, judging by her horrified reaction. Gently dropping Sothis back on her throne, she kneeled, clasping her palms together over her bowing head. “I’m so sorry for this misunderstanding, I swear that didn’t come across the way I thought it would!” she hurriedly apologized, her eyes slammed shut. “Can you forgive me?” She further begged, her tone filled with contrition. When Byleth received no answer for an era-long silence, she craned her head and opened her left eye tentatively. “Pretty pleaseeeeee?”  
  
“You’re the worst!" Sothis was again on the verge of tears, her face a crimson shade and her body trembled with abject anger. She lurched at Byleth and repeatedly pounded her chest with flailing fists. The mercenary crumpled beneath the hail of fists as Sothis pressed further on, her cries almost drowning Byleth’s laughter. “I swear I will not save you the next time even if it means my demiseeeeeee!!!!!” she managed to say before breaking down into a desperate bawl.  
  
“I-I’m sorry haha, sorry I sw-ouch!” Begged Byleth repeatedly as she laughed at the comical situation. Once the beating subsided, she mustered her ragged breath and thanked Sothis. “I swear, you’ve saved my life too many times in too short a span of time,” commented the mercenary as she recalled the memory of how she had stumbled on a root and fallen head first as an arrow aimed for her torso almost got her eye.  
  
"Oh my, are you finally acknowledging my selfless heroics?" Quipped Sothis, her chest puffing with pride for the first time in a good while.  
  
“Oh sure, you saved my bacon," quickly admitted Byleth with a chuckle and a wink before her facial expression turned awkward. "But… frankly, I need answers. Just who are you?” Byleth wanted to ask further but her train of thought came to a screeching halt as she realized something. Biting her lip briefly she directed her gaze back at sothis once more.“Can we talk tonight, Sothis? I cannot have this conversation in good conscience, not when there should be a battle unfolding around us.”  
  
"Hmmmm," the girl's index tapped her chin. "Do you promise to not repeat the payment debacle?"  
  
"I promise more moderation," noncommittally vowed the mercenary as she placed her left palm against her chest and held her right hand in the air.  
  
"Deal!"  
  
"Will this make my stomach lurch?" Asked Byleth with palpable concern. Upon receiving an affirmative nod she grimaced, took a deep breath while her shoulders slumped, and swiftly cuddled Sothis, much to her consternation. "Mmmmm! This fuels me!" Blissfully whispered the mercenary, paying no heed to the complaints of the green haired girl. "I always wanted a little sister, but daddy was against it!"  
  
"Gee, I wonder why?" Dryly wondered Sothis. Byleth jerked her away and Sothis could see that, for a change of pace, it was Byleth to pout and frown indignantly. That made Sothis snicker."Haha, just look at your face now! Poor poor Byleth," teasingly mocked Sothis, earning a deeper furrow and even more pouting from Byleth. Oh how did the tables turn. "Off with you!" She told Byleth off as she unwinded the fabric of time and bid farewell at the mercenary with an amused smile. "See you tonight!"  
  
===0===  
  
Byleth was quick enough to hold her heaving throes in check. Covering her face in the nick of time, just to hold her lunch in check. Taking deep breaths and ignoring the confused look from Caspar. Quickly, she stepped away from the root, least she landed face first against an arrow. Again.  
  
  
The scenes played out again, with Dorothea and Petra engaging in banter and Edelgard and Lysithea popping out of the woods. This time Byleth was sure that the princess had just wiped up some bit of cake from her cheek. She had to have a fierce sweet tooth if she felt such cravings on the eve of battle. The eve of battle…  
  
“Listen up!” Bellowed Byleth, as she recalled the events that would almost immediately take place. "The enemy is approaching from behind that hill!" That did the trick, everyone snapped towards her in surprise."Fighters at the front, mages back and healers at the centre! I want everyone in position by yesterday! M'kay?!"  
  
Byleth took the center of the moon shaped formation, flanked by both the princess and caspar, with Petra, Hilda and what's-his-name taking up the edges of the formation. This time the arrow fell a few steps away, burrowing into the ground with a thud and a few gasps escaping from the students throats.  
  
"Steady on and brace for impact!" Commanded Byleth as the guards poured through into view. She would have liked more time and a more advantageous position but that would cut til Kragan and his group arrived as per their plan. "Lysithea, open fire!"  
  
From Byleth's back Lysithea hurled a coruscating fireball and threw the flaming projectile that tore its way through the air and slammed the 2 archers that formed the backline of the opposing party. They deftly avoided the flame at the last moment, but her intent was to use the projectile as a means to warn the Blue lion team and get Kragan to mobilize them.  
  
“They are here!” Bellowed Byleth. “Close ranks, brace, and THRUST!” The mercenary managed to utter the command as the melee broke and she could feel the press of bodies start up. Cohesion played a key role in infantry fights. The last side to break ranks and formation was the one with the advantage. “THRUST!”  
  
With a collective grunt, the students used their weight to push out the first wave of guards, just a few seconds before the second wave and the two knights joined the fray. Byleth wasted no time, clasping both of her hands on her sword’s dull blade and hammering the pommel against the face of the closest foe with utmost economy of movement, followed by a crunching noise and a splattering of blood. The man reeled, pinching his broken nose amidst a red fountain and curses, while he blocked the way to his two companions. Byleth caught from the corner of her eye a flying guard heralded by the victorious roar from princess Edelgard.  
  
“Keep it on! Stick close to each other! Keep your sides protected!” She bellowed, only a second too late to see Caspar crumple against the floor, opening a gap in their formation. “For crying out loud!” Cursed Byleth as she made to cover the gap opened by the fallen student.  
  
She did a pretty miserable job at it, given one of the knights was on her like a hungry beast. She could barely watch how a second salvo of arrows downed Petra and the trio of guards ganked on that blue lion student with the red hair, who did manage to take out one. Sylvestre? Joshua? Something like that. She could hear from her left the cries of the other students, clearly knowing the formation would crumble at a moment’s notice just as fast as the right side of their force had. They were getting punked at a faster rate than she had expected. Gritting her teeth and growling in frustration, Byleth realized she needed a miracle to hold the line, and the goddess saw fit to bestow one.  
  
From the corner of her eye, Byleth saw Prince Dimitri and Kragan jolted ahead, Ingrid following a step behind and covering their left flank. With a below, the fellow teacher conjured a wreath of flames and catapulted it at the same time as he willed a gale of wind into existence. The archers avoided the fire once more, but the pocket sized wind gale blew one away. The other one was almost on his knees when a lilac flame blasted near him, sending him sprawling against the grass while Hubert and the rest of the blue team charged the enemy’s rear.  
  
“The cavalry’s here!” Cheered Byleth as she, at last, managed to find an opening. Slamming her blade against the knight, bringing him to his knees, she roared in triumph. “Seize the day!” Was all that she allowed herself to say before they finished the mop up of the now encircled foe.  
  
Truth be told, there was not much to seize. Seeing as the knights had been taken out of action, and that they had no escape route, the three remaining guards surrendered their arms in pretty short order, barely giving up a token resistance. With raucous cheers, the students of the three houses proceeded to celebrate the favorable result. Kragan swiftly approached Byleth and princess Edelgard, the blonde prince in tow.  
  
“No casualties on our end,” proclaimed the Prince with a beaming smile, a glint of competition edging through his voice. “What about yours?”  
  
“We had three,” stated Edelgard through her teeth as she angrily furrowed her brows, no doubt thinking she had lost the imaginary bout. “We can settle this later properly,” she muttered, her eyes locking with the prince, who clearly accepted the challenge. Pressing her lips she turned eastwards and was about to say something before pausing, visibly startled. “Is that Claude?”  
  
The rest of the group turned and saw she was right. There waltzed Claude, followed closely by Ferdinand and Dedue, the both of them clearly befuddled by the recent events. Closing the procession was an equally baffled Hanneman.  
  
  
“Wow, we…” began Kragan before trailing off in amazement. “We actually just expected you guys to hold a retreating action, not actually manage to beat them out… just, wow,” Dimitri threw him a disapproving glare, getting the professor to look awkward. “Look, we knew he’d not engage head on, and the other groups would assist him, it’s just that!”  
  
  
“Lord Claude’s methods were unorthodox but effective,” commented Dedue with a luck of slight unease all over his face as he spared a quick glance at the outlandish noble.  
  
“Nah, it wasn’t that much of a deal, they were blind as moles, tactically speaking,” shrugged Claude as he calmly folded his hands against the back of his head, a smarmy smile all drawn over his face. “Anyway, how about we get going? I have a plan to take over Fortius,” ventured von Riegan with a mischievous smile. The rest of the group looked at him with clearly mistrust. “Relax, it’s not gonna be too outlandish.”  
  
“Ho boy,” both Dedue and Ferdinand said in unison as they cringed in anticipation of what was to come. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t ease up their peers’ concerns.  
  
  
===0===  
  
Hubert, with the assistance of Hanneman, quickly raised a massive cloud of miasma. The cloud of cloying smog lumbered towards the eastern walls of the wooden fort as projectiles and spells darted out of it. The attack drew the attention of the defenders and they quickly repositioned over the rampart, ready to fend off the attack.  
  
At that moment Claude received the signal from his teacher and, with a cocksure grin, turned towards the other teachers and students. Dimitri just shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"I cannot believe we are acting like thieves," muttered Dimitri with palpable dejection. "There is little honor in this course of action, though I can see its obvious merits," he begrudgingly acknowledged as lysithea and Anette set to carve a hole on the southwestern palisade with their magics. After a second of pondering he amended his statement, wringing his hand. "Rather, it's not that it's not honorable: this feels wholly anti-climatic and-"  
  
"Oh shush with you," chided Edelgard with a hint of irritation, though she clearly looked disappointed with the current state of affairs.  
  
"Heh!" Scoffed Claude as he smirked. "The mission briefing was for us to arrive at the throne room," he smugly stated, then inched towards the two royals and tapped his forehead. "No need to battle the bear if you only need to snatch the honey he's stored in his cave."  
  
"Do bears store honey in their caves?" Genuinely asked Dimitri.  
  
Just before Claude could say anything else, the group was interrupted by a thud. A chunk of the palisade fell amidst a wreath of smoke with a thud. Lysithea gestured to them to go ahead, and professor Kragan pushed the lot of them. With nary a word, the group infiltrated the inner perimeter with no opposition and reached the "throne room", which was a glorified clearing circled by seven tents and with a chair at the back end. There sat Alois.  
  
The knight was dumb struck for a fraction of a second, his jaw agape, just before deciding to laugh at the situation. "Certainly that is a way to take the fort, I have to commend your cunning and fortitude," as everyone blankly stared at him, he grimaced. "Yeah, didn't stick the landing with that one," awkwardly acknowledged the knight.  
  
“That was about on par with handing someone a noose and telling him to hang in there,” commented Kragan as a smile began to dance across his face. Edelgard cringed at that comment, audibly groaning. Dimitri fought an urge to snicker, rapidly pressing a fist against his lips and conspicuously coughing.  
  
"Ah that is the kind of joke that leaves me breathless," jeered Alois, much to the snickering chuckle of both Kragan and Dimitri. The princess stared at him as if he had grown a second head, to which he apologetically answered 'it's so bad it's good'  
  
"Rather I would say it's pointless to hold your breath in that affair," now the three engaged in full blown laughter.  
  
"If any of you two fuckwits do ONE more joke,” threatened Byleth as she almost slammed her raised index against Kragan’s noise. “ONE more pun and I will _kill you.”_  
  
At last, a pregnant pause reigned over them. That is, until Kragan dared to break it. "Oh my, that would a… graaaave matteeerr!!" He jeered, earning yet another round of laughter from Alois and Dimitri.  
  
"Oh shush! You will be the death of me!" Countered Alois, and Kragan snickered and snorted in amusement.  
  
"Well, it's a joke to die from!"  
  
Just as Alois was about to add yet another pun, Byleth roared and grappled Kragan and threw him at the knight of seiros with furious strength. The impact echoed with a clang and the two of them were sent sprawling against the wooden throne, which shattered from the sudden impact.  
  
The rest of the crowd went into a pregnant silence, no one managing to utter a word until Hanneman arrived, saw the scene, and awkwardly cleared his throat, dismissing the students. "Very well, you guys succeeded in today's assignment, congratulations," said Hanneman, his gaze still locked on the two piled bodies, hoping they were alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. With this we conclude the first attempt at cooperation. Frankly, this is the chapter I've had the most fun writing for and it stands to reason, given there's the most character interaction in this chapter than in the other three. Anyways, chapter 5 will be pretty interesting as Dimitri has a meeting with his father.


	6. Chapter 5: ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dimitri has an unfriendly family reunion.

**Chapter 5. Ghosts.**  
  
The students feasted and held toasts all over the hall. On the northern wing of the hall, the second years held their event, diametrically opposed to the first years’ southern wing. The mood that reigned over the two crowds, though, couldn’t be more different.  
  
Amongst the second years, the black eagles beamed with prideful confidence and cheered the loudest. The blue lions and golden deer did their fair share of carousing, but theirs was a more subdued affair, and those watchful enough could see the sullen atmosphere that laid beneath them. It was the joy of the victors and the coping of the vanquished.  
  
Meanwhile, the 1st years were all equally exultant. Ferdinand had quickly whisked Lorenz to the black eagles’ table. Caspar had gone to the golden deers’, alongside Lysithea, Anette and Petra. The three houses were willingly intermingling. They formed small cliques, and those outside it were visibly uncomfortable at the very beginning, but the first steps to form bonds of camaraderie had been made.  
  
Which was something that deeply worried Hubert. The adrestian nobles would, sadly, be playing key roles in the initial stages of Lady Edelgard's efforts. If they established amicable relations with their future enemies, it would weaken their resolve to follow through his mistress' plans. It would-  
  
"Hubert?" Came a sadly too familiar voice, right behind the ghastly retainer as a gentle tug of his arm begged his attention.  
  
Instinctively, Hubert sprung backwards and jerked his arm, nursing it against his chest in a desperate attempt to avoid further fractures. Seeing Ingrid's startled face, especially those vibrant green eyes widening ever so slightly and her soft creamy lips curled into an O shape, Hubert immediately assessed he had overreacted. Swiftly regaining a smidge of composure, the retainer cleared his throat and nodded at the blue lion student.  
  
She took the cue, choosing to bow down briefly. When she looked back at him, Hubert noted that her contrition seemed genuine. Her redhead friend, Sylvain, snickered a bit at the theatrics.  
  
"I...I wanted to apologize," announced Galatea in a clearly strained voice, her face flush with unease. “Frankly, my behaviour earlier today was nothing short of shameful and I’d like to make amends.”  
  
“Hmph,” Hubert smirked in a self-satisfied fashion. For a second he flashed his stark white teeth at Ingrid, right before upping up his smugness“So you’re capable of civilized behaviour!”  
  
“And, out of curiosity, are you capable of anything other than sheer rudeness?” Replied Ingrid without missing a beat, her voice slightly rising in anger, her left brow creasing in frustration while her face was stonelike.  
  
In response, Hubert merely produced a hairpin out of his pocket and aimed it at Ingrid’s chest. The blue lion caught it mid air and, upon inspecting it, gasped.  
  
“Oh, that’s the hair pin your grannie gave you!” Sylvain was quick to note. “Weren’t you looking for it an hour ago?”  
  
“You dropped it on the field,” calmly explained Hubert with a disdainful expression. “I thought it would be basic decency to give it back to you,” elaborated the retainer as he turned towards his liege. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”  
  
Once Ingrid finally processed the last turn of events, she tried to talk to Hubert. Sadly, once she was able to form a coherent sentence, Hubert had left the scene. She was left there, her arm trying to reach the retainer but only grasping air.  
  
  
  


=== 0 ===

  
  
  
  
Kragan circled around Byleth, much like a shark did stalk its prey. He had whisked her away from the feast with a not so gently tug. Once they were far enough, the outlander halted and started the interrogation on Byleth.  
  
"Miss Eisner, I want to do a bit of a review with you,” tersely stated Kragan, pausing for a second and clasping his hands behind his back. “Do you remember our plan, by any chance?”  
  
“Yes? Get them to work together and whatnot, right?”  
  
“And what were the exact specifics of that plan, miss Eisner?”Inquired the fellow teacher, a hint of danger creeping from his tone. He paused, staring at Byleth with an even handed expression. “Didn’t we agree that Hubert would join Dimitri’s party and Dedue would be attached to Edelgard’s team, just so they could relay a good impression on their respective lieges?”  
  
"I seem to recall something to that effect, yes," reckoned Byleth.  
  
"Then why in the flying fuck did Anette _somehow_ end up swapping places with Dedue,” hissed Kragan, his voice cold enough to cause frostbite, as his left hand snapped forward, fingers pressed together like a scorpion’s sting. He gave the mercenary a fulminating glare. “Explain that to me, please!”  
  
"A wizard did it." Kragan was about to roar, but instead kept his wrath in check. Just barely. Byleth took the chance to further elaborate. “Look, I just wanted to-”  
  
“You wanted to oogle at her and be a step closer to a fully-fledged harem,” ventured Kragan, his voice was nonplussed, his expression signalled he had given up.  
  
“Actually, you just nailed what I was about to say in way fewer words!” She admitted in a showcase of satisfaction only the boldest or the biggest imbeciles could achieve. She scratched her chin, musing and nodding. Once her vapid machinations finished she clasped her hands together and beamed with a smile. “Yes, frankly, I just wanted to take a gander at that fine ass of hers!” She exclaimed joyfully, wistfully reminiscing those buttocks.  
  
“What happened to Mercedes?” Wearily asked Kragan, his left hand pinching the bridge of his nose in utter frustration.  
  
"Look," Byleth made to protest, palm against the chest and index aimed at the ceiling. "Mercie is clearly the love of my life-"  
  
"You met her three days ago and have exchanged a whole two sentences ever since!" retorted Kragan in a high pitched voice while he rolled his eyes in amused disbelief.  
  
"She’s the love of my life!" Insisted Byleth, her eyes widening with vexation as she arched her torso a smidge forward and stabbed the index against the heavens. She then made an impish smile."But that doesn't mean I cannot sample the fine goods that life offers me before settling down!"  
  
"Some quality love you’re showing right there,” Grunted Kragan with palpable sarcasm. He then pressed his left fist against his cheek, huffing in amusement at an inner joke he had made. “Not that I’ll let you lay a finger on her while you’re in a teacher-student relationship.”  
  
“We could-” began the mercenary before Kragan cut her off.  
  
"Nooo," Kragan rolled the o for a bit, steel filling his gaze. "You are not porking with my students… or any students." He paused, a mirthful smile dancing on the edges of his lips. "In fact, I am gonna order a chastity belt, just to make sure we keep you out of anyone's bed and the genepool at large."  
  
"The what now?" Asked an utterly confused Byleth. In frustration, she cupped Kragan's cheeks and shook him violently. "Fodlanese, do you do it!?"  
  
"It means having sons!" Managed to say Kragan as he tried to keep his balance while fending the mercenary. "Thank god you were born a female, or else we would need to cull the population of green haired bastards, you horny ass madwoman!"  
  
“They would be very beautiful and good sons!” Countered Byleth as she pounded her chest in pride.  
  
“Beautiful? Yes, you’re hot as fuck, after all,” bluntly recognized Kragan with a scoff. “Good? Seven hells, no!”  
  
The two would go on and on, tugging forward and back in their petty debate. Soon they reached the dorms, and said farewell. Kragan went to sleep, Byleth went towards the hall, wondering if there was some gem amongst the 2nd years.  
  
  


=== 0 ===

  
  
  
  
Hubert stood at attention, his skeletal frame lumbering next to the door of lady Edelgard's room, one ear focused on the corridor behind him, the other paying attention to her highness. He hid his lanky arms against his back, hands clasped together. One would be forgiven for confusing him for a corpse. He just awaited his liege’s response, with growing impatience.  
  
Lady Edelgard had not issued a single word since they had entered the room, choosing to sit over her bed, her gaze locked on the ceiling. Her face was a mask, unmoving, betraying no emotions. That mask broke ever so slightly when she finally spoke: her brow creased in annoyance.  
  
"The professors will be a problem we will need to deal with," surmised the imperial princess in a stone cold tone. When she faced Hubert, she furrowed her delicate brows, her lilac eyes inscrutable. "The one in red at least."  
  
Hubert grunted and nodded in recognition. He disagreed with her assessment, though. While professor Kragan clearly hid way too many secrets beneath that buffoonish facade of his, it was professor Byleth that worried him the most. Bizarre antics aside, Kragan behaved himself as a seasoned staff officer, meanwhile Byleth was a mere mercenary that, somehow, had snuck her way to the core of one of Fódlan’s core institutions. Lady Edelgard clearly favored her savior and wasn't being objective on the matter.  
  
“I personally think we should also keep an eye over professor Byleth,” Hubert settled down by merely stating that. It would be an adequate starting proposition and he could add further contingencies without his mistress’ knowledge.  
  
“Yes, that’s something I’ve been keen on doing since that fateful moment,” agreed Edelgard before her mind started to wander off. She then spoke in a wistful voice. “When she grasped for her sword and went for the kill, her whole body tensing in anticipation for the strike,” she shivered in pleasure, her lips morphing into a delighted smile as her gaze wandered far away to some happy place. “Her fiery mane flying around her face, and that sheen of sweat covering her supple sk-”  
  
“Lady Edelgard?” Hubert cleared his throat and dared to ask when he swore he was seeing the imperial princess drool. A trick of the light most likely. “I feel I’m not grasping the right meaning behind your words.”  
  
“Oh right,” She reckoned as she scrambled to recover her composure. “I meant we could learn a lot from her sword techniques!"  
  
“Uh-huh,” hummed Hubert, though he was still clearly unconvinced.  
  
“Speaking of possible problems,” added Edelgard in an attempt to shift the subject as she gently rubbed her chin. “What was your first impression of Claude prince Dimitri?"She asked, her face once more a stone like mask.  
  
Hubert scoffed.  
  
"The almyran bastard?" Hubert spat with palpable contempt. He folded his armd and turned his head towards the window. "A lackadaisical fool."  
  
The comment briefly took Edelgard aback, making her wince as her eyes widened a bit.  
  
"So the rumours were true then," Edelgard murmured, speaking more to herself than to Hubert.  
  
"I still have to confirm that, but crested heirs don't pop out of thin air," pointed out Hubert. "And crested bastards are immediately brought into the family fold, so that rules Godfrey out: the son would have been brought into house Riegan much sooner."  
  
"Which leaves us Tiana von Riegan, who allegedly was taken to Almyra…" Edelgard went silent for a moment before shifting ever so slightly, stretching her legs in a similar way to a cat. “According to the rumours that circle amongst crestologists, anyway.”  
  
"Crestology is a field filled with stalkers," Hubert was quick to note with a sardonic smile. Edelgard also snorted in response."I would take their findings almost at face value.”  
  
“True,” reckoned the princess as she slightly bit her lip. She slumped her petite frame over the bed, raising her head after a few moments of deep thought. “What about the scion of Blaiddyd, for some reason he seemed pretty interested in me.”  
  
Hubert barely managed to suppress his bafflement. Sometimes lady Edelgard couldn’t help but be that dense. Prince Dimitri was a male between the ages of thirteen and dead. Of course he was interested in her, he was bound to be flat out smitten by his lady's beauty. Not a single woman at Garreg Mach could hold a candle vs the princess's radiance. Memories of the mock battle emerged, and the retainer soon realized the prince’s true motive. His severe expression hardened even further.  
  
“He’s a cunning man,” hissed Hubert, glowering and gritting his teeth. His mind replayed the morning’s events, how the prince maneuvered the rest of the group to pressure him into assisting their cause, most likely to gauge his capabilities. “He is clearly a devious individual, given the set up of the teams.”  
  
“So you noticed that too,” whispered Edelgard. “He sent his most trusted servant, that duscur man, to oversee Claude, while he had one of his childhood friends tail me,” she noted, carefully connecting the dots. “All while having you, my loyal retainer, within arm’s reach."  
  
“Yes, looks like we are not the only ones with a hidden agenda,” dourly admitted Hubert. The man reclinned his frame against the door, craning his head up in contemplation. He upped the paranoia. “He’s gathering information. He’s clearly plotting something.”  
  
“He may be a threat,” concluded Edelgard. She pressed her lips and furrowed her brow all while her eyes burnt with cold and calculated anger. She would not be outdone, the future of Fódlan required it. “For now, keep tabs on him and track his movement. We will reassess our plan once we have the broader picture.”  
  
“A wise judgement, lady Edelgard,” Agreed Hubert while he made a gentle bow and retired to his room next door.  
  
  


=== 0 ===

  
  
  
  
"Aaalright, time to sleep," whispered Dimitri while tumbled down his bed with a delected sigh. He could feel his stomach bursting at the seams and his muscles ache from the battle. "Ah, it was… quite a day."  
  
Snuggling himself, the prince soon entered the realm of dreams, the food and exhaustion acting as somniferous agents. His eyes shut down and, with a gentle smile, he fell asleep.  
  
"Useless son!"  
  
The below caused Dimitri to sprang up in terror. He snapped his head rightwards, his eyes widening in abject terror as the glares grew more damning. They were here, not even this hallowed ground did they leave him be.  
  
"I did my best to raise you as a proper heir of the Blaiddyd bloodline," hissed his father, the late king Lambert. His once warm eyes were now filled with bloodlust and disgust. Dimitri watched in horror how the blood seeped from the gash over his neck.  
  
"And in return I asked for one thing, ONE thing," the king spat, his voice escalating several octaves as his temper flared and his hands curled into fists. He spared Dimitri a hate filled glare before excoriating him further. "And what do I get in return? Is my memory avenged? Is our honour mended!?"  
  
"F-f-father-" fearfully mewled Dimitri, his handd extended in a futile attempt to placate the ghost.  
  
"Silence _boar_!" Snarled Glenn, his words pouring out of the deformed orifice that had once been his mouth. His head had been caved in, the flesh splattering his once shining armor while strands of coal black hair mingling with shattered bones and pouring brain tissue. Glenn's remaining eye leered with disgust. "If you are unable to fulfill your task, then you are unable to whine!"  
  
The shout had demolished Dimitri's will to retort, his pitiful words dying midway through his throat. His brain instead resorted to silent tears, anticipating the incoming denigration. It was no use resisting, he knew the drill. Such a display did not alay the vengeful ghosts. On the contrary, it emboldened them, as they laughed in cruel derision. Worst of all was Patricia. His stepmother, flanked by two more ghostly knights, stared at him with disappointment, the left side of her torso filled with gashes and cuts. She never heckled him. She never cursed him. Dimitri wished she did, rather than silently pass judgement on him.  
  
"Instead of fulfilling your duty you gorge yourself on a feast and drool over maidens too good for such a filthy beast," accused Lambert, jabbing his index towards Dimitri. He made a mirthless grin. "You want to defile her, don't you? You desire the sight of von Hresvelg's tears once you force yourself upon her? Isn’t that right, you filthy beast?"  
  
"No!” Whimpered Dimitri, tears flowing wildly down his cheeks. “I wouldn’t-”  
  
“Silence, you ungrateful swine!” Roared Lambert as he took a step forward, his spectral flame towering over Dimitri, who huddled and curled his body in fear and shame. “I wouldn’t! I wouldn’t!” Parroted the ghost as he spat pure and undiluted venom. “You promised you would avenge us and yet here you are lazing around!”  
  
“Father I was just tired!” Pleaded Dimitri with exasperation, his voice cracking midway. He broke into a sobbing fit, managing to barely speak in between bouts“I just-I just needed some rest.”  
  
"Did you hear that, your majesty? He's tired! He needs some rest" cruelly mimicked Glenn while he feigned to bawl, hunching down and feigning to wipe his remaining eye's non-existent tears. He returned his attention upon Dimitri. He clicked his tongue and continued the excoriation."Then jump through the window. Head first. You will then rest eternally."  
  
"It's no use Glenn," stated Lambert amidst the courtiers' callous chuckle. He shook his head, droplets of blood splattering around. "This… this _welp,_ lacks the stones to even do that. We were a line of lions," he mourned, his words a dirge filled with pain. That pain turned into scorn once his eyes bore down on the prince once more. "Now only a craven remains."  
  
"I am not a craven!" Desperately whimpered Dimitri. The laughter grew ever louder and further vicious "I am not! I will show you I have not forgotten my promise, father!"  
  
"Then set your apparel and go train!" Roared Lambert as he swatted his hand. "Strain and burn your muscles until your flesh withers from your bones or our murderer's skull rests on a pike!"  
  
Dimitri simply nodded in maddened terror. With a speed born out of desperation, he set ready and jolted towards the training hall while the procession of ghosts chanted its hatred to the otherwise silent halls.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


=== 0 ===

  
  
  
  
Sometimes I dreamed of Carteneau. On occasion I was brought back to Ala Mhigo and Gimlet Dark. Those were fitful nights, but I wished I was there. I would gladly take devastation wrought by a mad god, the chaos of a city riven by righteous revolution or the smog filled trenches and blackened skies over my most dreaded memory.  
  
The bridge. It was always the bridge of Ishgard's Vault. I never started inside, my memory always preferred to get straight to the point, with Haurchefant Greystone lying on the ground and a gaping hole torn on his chest.  
  
"Heal! Heal! Heal damn it!" I bellowed desperately, tears flowing through my pain stricken face. I pressed on further against the gaping wound, my naked hand grasping the sickening garble of molten mail, charred flesh and innards and spurting blood, the magicks pouring from my being a trickle against the flood. "Confound it all, why isn't the wound healing!?"  
  
“You...you are unharmed?” Asked Haurchefant with a fading voice, his gaze wandering into the empty as blood trickled down his mouth. “F-forgive me… I couldn’t bear the thought of… of…”  
  
"C'MON! Shrieked Ermina in sheer desperation while she sat next to me, taking out poultices and potions and every single healing item we had in stock. The potions failed, the poultices would not be enough. We were losing him. The phoenix feather, to my utmost horror, did not improve the elf's condition. "Why-why is nothing working!?”  
  
No… no. Nonono _nonono **NONONO.**_  
  
"Haurchefant, haurchefant, HAURCHEFANT" I bawled desperately, tears cascading down my flustered cheeks. "C'mon, Graf is gonna make it back soon, you have to come greet him," my voice cracked as I gasped for air amidst the crying spams.  
  
A glimmer of recognition lit in his fading gaze and I madly giggled from the sheer sorrow and despair. With a trembling voice, I clung to that spot of hope.  
  
"That is right, you have to come and greet that oaf, he will smile like a child with candy," I craned my head, sobbing and crying desperately, his pulse was weakening. "Don't you dare leave us!"  
  
"You-you two need to plan that wedding or else you will not be able send the invitations before winter," Ermina managed to say as she gave up on the alchemical concoctions. "He has been going on and on about the bloody invitations for weeks!"  
  
Haurchefant made a weak smile, he had made his peace. With great he placed his hands over our shoulders and parted ways.  
  
"A smile better...suits a hero," he managed to say, his hands trembling. His voice had been reduced to a barely audible whisper."Tell him, I-."  
  
"NO!"  
  
I spasmed upright, the bridge of Ishgard's Vault fading into the realm of memories as I became aware of my surroundings. I was in my humble abodement in Garreg Mach, my eardrums ringing from my desperate cry and my lungs burning and desperately grasping for air. I could feel the salty taste of my own tears invading my tastebuds, my throat parched beyond repair and a spot of bile creeping its way out of my stomach.  
  
My breath was beyond ragged, almost inciting a constant choking sensation, while my heart brutally pounded my chest and tried to break free. I ran my trembling palms against each other, noting the cold sweat that marred them. I… I needed fresh air.  
  
I grabbed my paladin's soul crystal. The stone shimmered with an eerie glow born out of the knowledge placed in it by generations of proud members of Ul'dah’s Sultansworn. Papashan, former captain of the sultana's guard, had seen fit to gift it to me as compensation for the whole debacle surrounding her apparent assassination.  
  
In the blink of an eye, my body was covered from neck to toe in a gleaming suit of silvery armor of intricate and baroque design. Over my chest and back rested a surcoat of crimson and black, bearing the longship of the Maelstrom, Limsa Lominsa’s Great Company.  
  
“Some exercise will keep me distracted,” I muttered, still feeling unsettled. My throat was still parched as hell, even after drinking half a jug. Maybe some fresh air would help me.  
  
I had always been a scaredy that didn’t like walking in the dark. Being a godslayer hadn’t extinguished my fear, only upped the scale of the demons’ my mind would conjure out of the shadows.  
  
“ _Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,”_ I chanted while I almost tiptoed across the stone steps that led to the training grounds, my head wildly turning sideways at the merest hint of noise. Once I was almost at the training grounds I could hear the clash of steel against wood and I clutched my hands together, my teeth almost clattering. “Holy fuckeroli, I am starting to hear things today.”  
  
Finally managing to muster the courage to enter, I clasped the entry’s door knob. Sucking air as if my life depended on it, I craned down my head into the training ground, not daring to utter a word until I saw him.  
  
“Dimitri?”  
  
  


=== 0 ===

  
  
  
  
“GAH!” Dimitri cried out as he was sent flying backwards, his body unceremoniously crashing against the ground. Coughing in pain, the prince placed both of his hands against his sternum. Fortunately it hadn’t broken, otherwise he’d be feeling way more pain “Point, professor.”  
  
So this was what an emasculation looked like.The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was legendary for its spear techniques. The prince had trained with the noble lance for almost his entire life. He had drilled and sparred with it endlessly. And he could only land two blows on the professor.  
  
What a failure. Outdone in his speciality in such a crushing display. He was worthless.  
  
“Ho boy,” managed to wheeze Kragan as he breathed heavily. He brought a hand to his side and groaned in pain, his whole body visibly cringing at the sensation. “Mother of god, Dimitri, you’re a beast, my man.”  
  
“Professor, do you think I am a beast?" Asked Dimitri in a pitiful voice. Had he discovered he was merely a boar so soon?  
  
“No no!” Kragan swiftly rose his hands, waving them forwards and backwards. He looked clearly taken aback. “By that I mean you’re an exceptional fighter!”  
  
That lie stung even harder. "Professor, I could barely lie a finger on you!"  
  
“Dude, I’m cheating like there’s no tomorrow in this fight,” managed to say the professor with a pained mind. "I am using my soul crystal a lot more than usual."  
  
"Soul crystal?" Managed to ask Dimitri. That name sounded foreboding. “What is that? Is it even allowed by the church?”  
  
“What is a soul crystal?” Echoed Kragan with clear confusion. For a second Dimitri could swear he heard the cogs of his mind whirl at maximum speed. He finally gave up and shrugged. “A good question I’ve never put much thought into, to be honest, though you could say they are an extreme concentration of aether,” upon seeing Dimitri’s palpable confusion he elaborated. “Of magic upon which are carved the deeds and exploits of heroes past,”  
  
“This is a dragoon’s soul crystal,” continued Kragan proudly as he produced an azure stone. Dimitri was quick to notice the dragon's head etched in it, as well as the power that radiated from it. "Trust me, you did extremely well for someone facing the accumulated knowledge of a thousand years long war!"  
  
“A thousand years long war?” Managed to echo Dimitri in strangled bafflement. His eyes squinting in disbelief. “What are you, professor? Seriously!”  
  
“Hah! Trust me, if I told you where I hail from, you’d not believe me,” he exclaimed with a saddened grimace, his head turned eastwards and his gaze wandered to a faraway place. “My tale is one that must be told by others, or else it will defy belief,” he snapped out of his trance and offered Dimitri a helping hand. “But enough about me, what brings a prince to the training hall right now?”  
  
“I just felt doing some late night exercise,” grunted Dimitri as he rose up, taking his teacher’s offer and almost pulling him to the ground in return.  
  
"Look," Kragan sighed and made a worn but gentle grin. "We can dance around the truth all night long, but it’s like three in the morning and we both look like shit, so I would rather have you come clean."  
  
"What about you?” Deflected Dimitri in a prickly manner. “It’s three in the morning, and we both look like shit, clearly you have some skeletons in the closet.”  
  
"Yes," he said bluntly "See? It's not that hard to come clean and actually communicate with others!” Dimitri scoffed at the backhanded comment, which caused another of Kragan’s disturbing laughs.  
  
Seeing the Prince’s unconvinced expression, Kragan made a weary chuckle and sat. A second afterwards he gestured to Dimitri to sit next to him. Once they were set, Kragan made a weary sigh, his face filling with melancholy and sadness. He wove his fingers into a basket and finally spoke.  
  
“There was once a knight, Haurchefaunt Greystone,” began Kragan in a wistful voice, his eyes locked on the ceiling. “He was a naturalized bastard, so he stood no chance of inheritance, so he turned his attention to the path of knighthood. Boy did he become a good knight!” He exclaimed, turning to look at Dimitri before his gaze wandered once more, this time horror creeping into his eyes. “A knight to a fault. He saved me from certain death, sacrificing his own life in return.”  
  
Dimitri almost gasped when he saw tears flow from the professor’s cheeks. He sniffed and almost spasmed as the pain took over his body, his brown eyes reddening as he rubbed his palm against them. When the rubbing proved insufficient to purge the tears, he covered his face with both hands for a moment. With a deep, ragged breath he managed to find the courage to follow on.  
  
“We tried to save him, to heal his wounds… we failed him. That memory haunts me still,” he added with a humourless, sad chuckle. “That’s why I am here.”  
  
"Back then,” Dimitri paused, fearful of asking that question. He found the courage, if only just barely. “Do you think he died with regrets?”  
  
“Of course he did,” brutally countered Kragan. “He died young and with a fiancee, of course he had regrets,” he sucked a breath of air, and then spoke once more. “But, you know,” Kragan said softly, his voice barely a whisper. He breathed deeply, almost as if he savored his breath.“And this is something the fiance himself said, he would have had many more regrets had he not done so, for he would have broken his vows, which were an integral part of him.”  
  
“He’d still be alive though!” Countered Dimitri, his hand snapping like a whip, his fist unfurling as his fingers extended.  
  
“Yes, he’d still be alive, just as much you’re still alive, Dimitri,” Kragan swiftly retorted. He grinned, and Dimitri knew the man had figured something important. “I don’t intend to pry too deep, but you’re blaming yourself for the loss of people you held dear, something that’s deeply affecting you on a mental level, otherwise you would not be asking those questions so vehemently. Haurchefant would do the same.”  
  
Kragan turned and faced the prince, his eyes filled with sympathy and his smile gentle. He clasped Dimitri’s hands in a tender embrace.  
  
“And those people you’re mourning would be in the same position as you, had the reverse happened,” he softly whispered, his tone that of a caring mother.  
  
“But what if-”  
  
“What if the sky turned yellow and a 400 foot pink platypus razed the town!?” Asked Kragan in an agitated manner. He then paused for a second, his jaw slackening once he actually put some thought over his words. “Holy shit that was a bad attempt, please forget I said that nonsense.”  
  
Dimitri couldn’t help but snort at the poorly thought out simile. Kragan couldn’t help but shrink in embarrassment.  
  
“What I’m trying to say is that the reality of things is what it is,” Kragan made a second attempt at explaining himself. A few awkward seconds passed by, and the professor extended his left hand against the air, grasping at nothing, while he bit the left corner of his lower lip. He gave up and groaned in frustration. “Fuck it: don’t beat yourself about the past, for it’s out of your control now. You must live your life!”  
  
“Eeeh-” began Dimitri before Kragan hastily cut him off.  
  
“By that I mean I’m sure those people you care about wouldn’t have wanted that,” he hurriedly added, his anxiety creeping up with every word he bumbled. He looked positively aggravated, something that he realized, as he made a nervous giggle and tiredly rubbed his eyes. “Man, do I suck at being a people person… oh god, I’m so sorry you guys are stuck with me as a teacher.”  
  
At this point, Dimitri couldn't help but laugh at the professor's ill thought attempts to fix his verbal diarrhea. At first it was a chuckle but it soon escalated into a laughing fit. Tears rolled from the emotional discharge and his stomach ached, so he had his hands rubbing it. Once he could finally stop, he took some deep breath and wiped the tears off his face. With a silly grin still plastered over his face, Dimitri bowed down in front of the startled professor.  
  
“Professor, I’d like to apologize,” announced the prince in an earnest manner once he finished the bow. “I’ve been treating you in a way unbecoming of our relationship and unfair to your person."  
  
“Hah! Dimitri, you can drop the formalities,” scoffed Kragan with a shy smile, his cheeks reddening a bit from the embarrassment. “I’m not much of a teacher myself. I swear this will be a learning process both for me and you all, so I hope I can draw upon you for assistance!" He requested as he placed a hand over Dimitri's shoulder.  
  
"Whenever you need it, you can count on my assistance,” proudly proclaimed Dimitri while pressing a fist against his chest.  
  
"Good!" Kragan clapped with joy and began his departure, but stopped mid way. He turned towards Dimitri and stared at him intently. "Also, Dimitri."  
  
"Yes, professor?"  
  
"If the ghosts of the past haunt you again, don't hesitate to come to me," stated Kragan as softly as he could. He hesitated for a second as he scratched his head with uncertainty, fot finally found the courage. He narrowed his eyes a bit and flashed his teeth for an instant. '  
"I may not be much of a teacher, but I am your teacher nonetheless. Whenever you need it, you can count on my assistance, whatever the matter!"  
  
It was at that moment that Dimitri realized it. That bumbling, that innocent smile, those caring words. It was all the real Kragan. Much as the scheming and cunning. They were all part of the same mess of a person. Someone that wanted to help people he cared for and protect them, whatever the means. And that sparked a warm fire on Dimitri’s heart. For he felt he could count and rely on him. Feeling a joy he hadn’t felt in years, the Prince smiled, two tears falling from his eyes.  
  
"Okay professor!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The warrior of Light's seen some deep shit. At first my idea was to have him be with the black eagles, then I gave thought to his psyche's state and I realized he was a much better fit for the blue lions, given their overall state.


	7. Chapter 6: A pride of lions

**Chapter 6. A pride of Lions.**  
  
  
Dimitri and the rest of the blue lions took their respective seats. Everyone bar Sylvain was present, awaiting intently for the professor.  
  
"I wonder, what must be holding professor kragan back?" Inquired Ingrid, her cheek resting upon her index finger in contemplation while she hummed. "He ought to be here already."  
  
Dimitri needed to muster all his willpower in order to avoid laughing. He knew full well why. The students had been given a free day after the battle so they could nurse their wounds and rest. Kragan had summoned Dimitri to his quarters for assistance and information.  
At that time the prince couldn't help but compare him to an hyperactive squirrel fueled by primal terror. The man just didn't stop fretting about how to teach them and how to make a good impression. Dimitri barely suppressed a laugh, pressing his fist against his mouth, when he thought that the situation had been almost adorable.  
  
He shot a glance at the door once it opened. Kragan strode into the classroom with a stonelike expression. When he stopped next to his desk, he directed a cold and calculating stare at the students. The blue lions stared back, awaiting with a mixture of anticipation, and sudden dread, the next words of their professor. His lips parted, sucking a breath of air, and everyone in the classroom tensed slightly.  
  
"Dear students," began Kragan, his gaze scanning through the room "I want to ask you a question: what is the purpose of Garreg Mach?"  
  
Ingrid raised her hand eagerly. "To train and form us into stalwart knights and-"  
  
"Wrong!" Shouted Kragan with a bellow mighty enough to make the blonde student flinch in surprise, her green irises shrinking in surprise. "The purpose of this academy is to turn you into officers, into soldiers!"  
  
“Uuuuhh… what is the difference,exactly?” dared to ask Annette, immediately proceeding to shield herself from the incoming explosion of noise.  
  
"The difference is that,rather than being pampered, over the next two years I will _destroy_ you," loudly proclaimed Kragan as he fulminated Annette with his glare, making the redhead girl squeak in fear. "I will _break_ you, I will grab the fragments and I will _fashion_ tools perfect for _military use_!” He exclaimed as he raised his thumb, index and middle fingers.  
  
"Uuuhhhh...Shouldn't we-," began Ashe, trying to raise his hand before Kragan cut him off.  
  
"Silence buffoons!" He shouted, a vein popping out of his neck, while he glared Ashe into submission. The youth huddled and Kragan clicked his tongue in rapid fire succession. "You will speak when you are allowed to and, when asked if you understand something, you will respond with sir, yes sir or sir, no sir, is thar clear?"  
  
"Pathetic," muttered Felix as he adjusted his hair bun. “Do you get a raise out of trying to look imposing?”  
  
"Is there any matter you feel the need to add without permission, Fraldarius?” Coldly asked the professor.  
  
“I feel the need to add that you’re a pretentious windbag trying to look like a big shot,” shot Felix while he rested the back of his head against his hands.  
  
“Oh, I must tell you that my words are not just for show, mister Fraldarius,” assured Kragan as he interwove his hands, promising oblivion itself at the student. “If you wish to, I could do a small demonstration,” he cocked his head emphatically, hummifying his lips as he awaited the response.  
  
“Is that a challenge, professor?” asked Felix, his interest rising as his voice gained a dangerous edge and his body perked forwards, ready for the onslaught.  
  
“Only if you’ve got the stones to take it,” taunted Kragan with a smirk as he took a step back.  
  
Felix grinned at the chance for battle and attempted to get up. Attempted being the operative word. Before he even realized what had just happened, professor Kragan was shoving him into the ground, the hilt of his rapier slamming against his neck while his body clashed against the floor. The crash of opposing forces made Fraldarius’ arm’s flail while he choked helplessly. He croaked breathlessly, bringing his hands to his throat as he writhed in pain. Kragan rose in triumph, daring silently at the students to further challenge him.  
  
“I take, no one has any further issues with the proposed directives, right?” Kragan asked with a bone chilling coolness as he began to forge his way back to his desk.  
  
"Sir, no sir!" Shouted the students in near unison, fear bringing them into synchronie.  
  
"Have I made myself clear then!?" Shouted Kragan as his murderous gaze darted between students.  
  
"Sir, yes sir!" Came the chorus of scared students, none daring to meet his wrathful gaze.  
  
“I cannot hear you!” Roared Kragan, veins popping out of his neck, and spit catapulting out of his clicking tongue.  
  
“Sir, yes sir!” Fear and terror brought the students voices up by another octave, each of them stiff as a wooden plank.  
  
"Good!" Roared Kragan as he made a vicious grin and toyed with his rapier. "I will even make you fi-fine m-," began Kragan before he began stuttering and almost became a blabbering trainwreck. Once he finally went back on track he couldn’t but help but bring his hand against his temple. "Goodness gracious, there goes the rehearsal!" Squeaked the professor in utter dismay before realising he had just shoved his feet into his mouth.  
  
The sudden turn of events, coupled with the ashamed-even mortified- face kragan made, cracked the students. First, Annette made a muffled giggle, which became audible despite her attempt to cover her mouth. Mercedes and Dimitri followed, then Ashe. Once the raucous reaction reached its apex, Kragan and even Dedue partook on the reaction.  
  
“Deep breaths Kragan, deep breaths,” managed to say amidst the laughter. He paused, his chest heaving in pain from the chortle while the rest of the students were still chuckling. "Okay, I suppose I cannot keep with the hard-ass drillmaster act, can't I?" He asked in demure hope.  
  
  
“Not a chance, professor,” stated Dimitri amidst tears, his chest still heaving from the howling laughter. "But I have to admit I am impressed you managed to carry the act for so long with just one day of rehearsal!"  
  
“I suppose there is a silver lining in this whole mess!" Agreed the apologetic professor with a shy smile.  
  
"I still told you it would be a bad idea," dared to add Dimitri as he felt the urge to laugh further.  
  
The plan to appear as a ruthless taskmaster that organically shifted into a fatherly figure had more holes than he cared to count. But the professor had been pigheaded about that harebrained idea he had come up with.Kragan was about to retort, his index raising to add effect, but Ingrid got aheaf of him, clearing her throat to get everyone's attention.  
  
"Professor, must I ask," Inquired Ingrid while her fingers drummed over her palm and he gaze wandered towards Felix. "Was it necessary to be so harsh with Felix?"  
  
  
"Oh right," Realized the professor when Kragan looked down in horror at the downed student as he whimpered in breathless pain. He brought his hands together against his lips as he drew a heavy breath and gulped down in unease."Sorry Felix!" Apologized Kragan, using hands as a megaphone of sorts.  
  


=== 0 ===

  
Several days later, Kragan and several of the blue lions took the chance to use the kitchens after class. Apparently the students were given the chance to use the cooking stations under supervision of the staff. It turned out the staff even encouraged that, for they got paid extra. Kragan didn’t really care about that much, he mainly wanted to try his hand cooking some of the Fódlander ingredients, and he hadn’t been able to cook over the last week and a half, something he did enjoy greatly.  
  
“I shall prepare-” began Dedue, stepping forward til Kragan gently clasped his shoulder. He turned at the professor in confusion, who in response flashed his teeth in reassurance.  
  
“Take a seat if you want to, I want to get a bit experimental with you guys, if you don’t mind,” asked Kragan with what were almost puppy eyes.  
  
With no little uncertainty, the duscur agreed, giving the professor carte blanche. In the meantime he killed time with Sylvain and Ingrid, which meant he absentmindedly half-heard Ingrid chastise Sylvain for the upteenth time in regards to his latest affair. Not that he thought it was a bad thing, Sylvain needed discipline in his life. But by now he had memorized every possible iteration of the argument by rote.  
  
"Okay, done!" Exclaimed Kragan with a proud grin while he hauled a plate brimming with meat and finely cut vegetables. There were more than four servings there.  
  
  
Dedue approached and gauged the plate. "The arrangement of the ingredients clearly enhances their visual appearance, creating a striking and appealing set up," analyzed Dedue as he approached to inspect the plate, a hint of a smile dancing over the edge of his lips. He sniffed the plate's aroma and hummed pleasantly as he turned towards the professor. "Pretty much the same can be said of the aroma."  
  
"Hah! Wait til you actually taste the dish!" Exclaimed Kragan as he gestured at the plate and handed Dedue a fork.  
  
Dedue complied without a word, taking a bite of the meat. His eyes widened up. “Such a…” Dedue tried to describe the dish but words failed to form. Closing his eyes, the duscur man craned his head while tears gently poured over his cheeks. Sucking a breath’s worth of air, the retainer clasped Kragan’s hands, his face filled with emotion. “This-this is a fruit born out of pure love, professor,” proclaimed a tearful Dedue, his voice cracking while a blushing Kragan avoided his intense stare.  
  
"Dedue, you’re going waaay overboard,” stated Kragan, his left hand grasping the back of his head as he looked down and blushed in embarrassment. "I just put the skills I learnt as a cook years ago?"  
  
"Weren't you a navy officer?" Inquired Sylvain with a cockee eyebrow.  
  
"Tell me, what happens to a Thalassocracy's finances when sea travel gets a looooot more messier?" Kragan deadpanned with a wave of the hand before shaking his head with nostalgia, his eyes dying out a bit at the memories. "I swear, I had to work part time at the Bismarck restaurant for two years just to make ends meet, given how miserable pay was. Fortunately, when I got my captain's comision things stabilized but," he winced at the memories. With an uneasy chuckle, he cringed at the remembrance of the past. "Boy, were those years just flat out shitty."  
  
Meanwhile, Ingrid flat out ogled at the dishes, her pupils widening, her breath baited and drool pooling inside her mouth as a primal growl escaped between her grinding teeth. Kragan turned, wondering what was going on.  
  
"Oh c'mon, Ingrid!" Exclaimed Kragan when he noticed her expression."Come, take a bite, I have made more than enough!" he offered as he kindly gestured at Ingrid to help herself with the dish.  
  
With dubitative steps, ingrid approached the chicken dish, her mind riven by two conflicting feelings. On the one hand she wanted to try it… on the other, she didn't want to make a scene. She turned to professor Kragan, hoping to find an excuse for temperance. Instead the teacher cocked his head towards the plate, silently inviting-almost urging- her to try the dish.  
  
Audibly gulping, she grabbed the fork, slicing the tender and juicy meat and snatching some of the scrumptious vegetables. Just one bite, she promised herself when she noticed the droplets of delectable sauce as her trembling hand closed the distance, her drool threatening to overflow. Just one bite, Ingrid begged to herself as her eyes watered down ever so slightly at the tantalizing aroma. Just one bite, she pleaded one last time, as she drew one last breath before taking the bite, her teeth and tongue taking positions with feverish anticipation. Just one bite, just the one! Such compunctions disappeared when she sunk her teeth upon the delightful morsel, the explosion of taste ravaging her taste buds and obliterating the shackles of restraint.  
  
“Holy fuck, Ingrid,” swore Kragan as he skipped a step back in utter surprise. Sylvain looked used to that voracious display.  
  
Ingrid paid no attention to that startled remark. Her mind had literally gone blank upon such a fine cut. With an ecstatic and long drawn sigh, Ingrid licked her lips several times, savouring the after taste and gulping it down her stomach one last time. A sonorous exhalation, filled with pure and undiluted pleasure, escaped her throat as cleansed her mouth with a napkin. She then realized what she had done. She immediately dropped the fork, clattering against the plate, and proceeded to bow in front of the professor.  
  
“I’m-”began Ingrid before Kragan squeezed a hand over her right shoulder.  
  
“I did that food for my students in mind,” argued Kragan calmly. He then stared at the empty plate and grimaced, his head bobbing forwards for a second. “I have to say I didn’t expect for that one plate to last for such a short while, in all honesty,” he concluded with another one of his bouts of disturbing giggling.  
  
"Nevertheless," exclaimed Ingrid as she clasped the professor’s hands. “That was something you had prepared for all of us!” she self-chastised herself.  
  
"Well, I mean," Kragan scratched his head, uneasy at the apologetic display of his student. "You ought to have your reasons for that voracious appetite, I guess.”  
  
"Well," she averted her gaze but nevertheless found the courage to explain her background. "Galatea territory has never been a good place for agriculture," she began explaining, her head still downcast and her whole body fidgeting in shame. "So famines have occurred over the years," she let the implications sink in, not daring to speak any further of her shameful behaviour.  
  
She finally managed to look at her professor and, much to her surprise, his expression wasn’t disdainful or mocking. Instead he was absorbed in his thoughts, his left hand pressed against his mouth and caressing his right cheek from time to time. Sucking a breath, the professor turned his attention at Ingrid once more, his expression serious but calm.  
  
"Ingrid, can I ask you about Galatea’s soil and agricultural conditions?” Wondered the professor while he grimaced for a moment.  
  
That question caught Ingrid way off guard. “I’m afraid I will not be able to answer that kind of question,” demurely stated Ingrid with a slight blush of shame. “I took more interest in military studies than agricultural ones.”  
  
“Hmmmm,” hummed Kragan as he massaged his chin, still deep in thought. He then merely shrugged, heading towards the cooking stations. “Anyway, anyone wants a second serving?”  
  
“Me, me, me, me, me, me!” quickly agreed Ingrid with palpable desire, clapping and skipping twice as she almost had to wipe out the deluge of newly formed drool. Her knees almost buckled at the reminiscence of the delightful experience.  
  
“Ingrid, mind your manners,” playfully teased Sylvain right before Ingrid’s elbow almost shattered his ribcage.  
  
  


=== 0 ===

  
“You are evil, felix!”  
  
The cry came out of nowhere and was followed by a blitzing Annette leaving the garden, angry tears falling down her cheeks. I seriously didn’t know what in the actual fuck did happen, my mind frozen by the surprising turn of events.  
  
Finally managing to gather the courage and momentum, I stepped forwards into the garden  
  
“Feeeeliiiiixxx!” I hissed with a bone chilling voice, my hands almost clawing at the doors.  
  
"Oh, it is you" muttered Felix with a dismissive groan, his face contorting in disgust. He turned to further water the plants, his usual derision almost palpable. "Thought it would be an actual person."  
  
"What exactly did just happen between Dominic and you?" I asked, cutting straight to the point. I folded my arms, my fingers drumming the puffy sleeves of my arms  
  
Felix stiffened at her mention."Nothing happened," bluntly denied Felix while he shot a hateful glare at me.  
  
“No, no, no!” I said while swinging my index like a metronome, my grin mirthless. I closed the distance between us. "This is clearly not ‘nothing’, Felix, and I am not going to take any nonsense if it is what I think it was."  
  
"Piss off, you dog," growled the brunette student while he folded his arms and cocked his head towards the door.  
  
“Oh, someone’s forgotten the lesson from a week ago,”I hissed with murderous intent. Felix took a step back and unfolded his arms, taking a more wary stance, his instinctings unearthing the painful memories. I softened my stance, my smile mellowing up. “I don’t want to start having bad blood between the two of us this soon, if I can't help it. So, please..."  
  
"I came to help her water the plants, and I accidentally annoyed her" shot Felix with a hint of shame as he proceeded to further tend the plants. "Got any problems with that?"  
  
 _That is a bald faced lie if I ever saw it._ In the week I had spent teaching I had quickly come to learn that Felix Hugo Fraldarius generally didn't go help people, rarely angered others "accidentally", and sure as shit never felt bad about it. My first guess was something had happened and he was trying to shoulder all the blame or some such. Which was quite impressive on its own.  
  
"You do care about her, don't you," I flat out stated as I folded my arms and took a step back. I realized I had hit bullseye.  
  
"You want me to beat you to a pulp?" Hissed Felix with courage born out of anger. "I may even get rid of that nonsense that just filled your brain.  
  
"Attaboy, that is the spirit!" I commended him with a vicious smirk as I readied my weapon. He had guts, the little- well, not so little, he was the same height as me- bastard.  
  
"This time don't hold back, professor," chimed Felix with a smirk of his own.  
  
Without a word of warning I lunged at Felix. Fraldarius was slow to react, barely managing to reach for his sword. My shoulder connected with his chest, reeling him backwards and sending him crashing. This time I was more gentle and my blade just grazed his navel this time.  
  
Felix just stared at me, his chest heaving with each of his ragged breaths. At first he was dumbfounded, but his face soon contorted into a snarl of frustration. He bared his teeth and wrinkled his nose as he grabbed me by the collar.  
  
"You held back!" He accused me, his brown eyes trembling with impotent anger. I could hear his teeth grit.  
  
"You'd be dead otherwise," I boasted calmly, matching his gaze and hiding my unease. Boy, was this kid intense. "In fact I should have held back even, that way you could learn a few things from my style."  
  
"How did you know?" Asked the slightly flabbergasted student.  
  
"Because I talk to other people, enough to learn you are a sword obsessed freak," I replied all smarmy. He groaned in annoyance, so I doubled down and slapped his back. "You should try it sometime, might help you with your friends and possible lovers!"  
  
"You trying me to be all buddy buddy with the boar?" Asked Felix with a leery glare.  
  
"Oh, no no no!" I frantically denied as I rapidly clicked my tongue. "Do not get me wrong, Felix, I don't think you are 100% in the wrong," no, that was not right. I mulled for a second before elaborating further. "In truth, I appreciate your guts and the fact you are the only one willing to try to address the elephant in the room... though I disagree categorically with your methods," I said while I started to leave the garden.  
  
"Address the elephant in the room?" Muttered Felix as he gently massaged his throat. "What is that supposed to mean in this case?  
  
"You know what I meant," I retorted with a shrug before finally taking my leave. Felix tried to stop me but I walked away a step too far. "Now, since you wanted me to leave, I will not bother you any further," I said while I left the garden. Feeling pedantic I took a step back, peeking my head over the entrance. "For today, that is!"  
  
As I went in search of Annette, I couldn't help but think how apt Dimitri's description had been. Felix was but a very big, very prickly kitten.  
  


=== 0 ===

  
"So, Kragan, it seems our students' first mission will be a clean up operation, m'kay?" Stated Byleth while the two teachers made their way towards Hanneman's studio to sort things out. When she got no answer from her fellow teacher, Byleth cleared her throat and threw him an annoyed glare. When that failed, she resorted to shaking Kragan. “Fódlan to Kragan!”  
  
"Oh, sorry!" Apologized Kragan as he broke out of his dazed stupor."I am just frankly impressed Seteth agreed to our request so easily,” commented the outlander while he reminisced about the quasi-apocalyptic battle they had to go through last time. “Like, he rose hell itself for a mock battle and he’s incredibly A-OK with us sending them to an actual campaign.”  
  
  
"Oh I just had to butter Rhea a bit!” Sing-songed Byleth with an impish smile that faded away when she noticed the dubious glare Kragan shot at her. She jabbed her index against his left arm."What? I just explained to her.  
  
“And for you that, somehow,” Kragan put special emphasis on the last word, even adding air quotes, before he returned the jabbing. “Translates to ‘butter her up’, forgive me if I doubt your explanation.”  
  
“She’s the archbishop!” whimpered a falsely flabbergasted Byleth while she brought her hand against her chest.”  
  
“You’ve been lusting over the nuns here, so-” deadpanned Kragan before he gasped and stopped on his tracks forcefully.  
  
“Hey wh-BY CICHOL’S BALLS!” She roared with joy, her expression becoming almost feral at the godly sight.  
  
When they turned the corner of the hallway, the duo had just bumped into Mercedes who… was completely naked. She still had her embroidered, cream coloured underwear on but, aside from that, she was naked. Kragan, despite all his attempts at restraint, couldn't help but mentally note how well her usual attire hid her sensuous curves and insanely large chest.  
  
Kragan managed to tear his eyes out of her, not without a pang of regret, and turned towards his companion, just in time to see her nose start to trickle blood. He swore that was the face of a lecherous old man, not woman in his mid twenties.  
  
Byleth let out a long drawn and lustful groan, her grin widening up as her pupils grew in size at the alluring image. She took a deep, powerful breath and was about to make her move at last. Kragan was quick to act, though. He swung his arm with brutal speed and his hand clutched Byleth’s head, his palm covering her eyes and his fingers pressed against the sides of her head.  
  
Byleth whimpered in pain and brought her hands against Kragan’s iron grip in an attempt to fend it off and be able behold the voluptuous body of her, allegedly, beloved one.  
  
“No you’re not going to do that now,” hissed Kragan, tightening his grip further, his fingers almost clawing at Byleth’s skull.  
  
"Professor?" Asked Mercedes absentmindedly once she noticed the ruckus happening around her and just before recognizing the source of their blushes and unease. Once she did, Merced looked down, her blue irises shrinking in horror, and her whole body tensed before her arms sprung towards her generous bosom with a squeal. She closed her eyes and sighed, utterly mortified. "Oh no, not again!" she whispered in shame.  
  
“Professor!" A voice came from his back, Ashe's. " I would like to ask you a few things in regards to my tuto- by the goddess!" Ashe had started in a calm voice but when he turned the corner he couldn't help but gasp and make a strangled shout, startled as he was."Mercedes what did just happen!?" He cried out as his hands covered his face and he turned away, his legs pressing against each other for obvious reasons.  
  
"I am a bit oblivious to this kind of issues," muttered Mercedes with an awkward smile, her shoulders slumping after an apologetic shrug. "So this happens on occasion."  
  
That statement sent Byleth into a ballistic overdrive, her attempts to shake Kragan off growing more vicious, more desperate. Kragan merely squeezed further, causing his fellow professor to cry out in pain rather than pleasure.  
  
"No, this will not do," muttered Ashe with a stern expression as he unbuttoned his jacket and placed it over Mercedes shoulders. "Please, take my jacket."  
  
"Ashe," began Mercedes, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of red. "you don't have to do this."  
  
"I disagree," automatically countered Ashe with a fist tapping his chest. "I think this is the bare minimum I should do."  
  
"Ashe…," managed to say Mercedes while she clasped the jacket, trying to get it to cover as much ground as possible. Her eyes warmly narrowed a bit and she made an angelic smile. "Thank you."  
  
“Thank you very much Ashe, you’re always being a help,” belatedly proclaimed Kragan while he made to leave. "You are an exemplary student," Kragan omitted the fact he thought Ashe was a cinnamon roll.  
  
"Oh thanks professor!" Exclaimed Ashe as he blushed a bit. He stopped sparing a glance at Byleth. “Is something wrong with professor Byleth?” he dared to ask, his head bobbing beween the two teachers.  
  
“Oh no, she is just being a tad to sensitive to sunlight!" Deftly lied Kragan. "I am just helping her reach the infirmary, so I will be taking my leave," he explained as he took his leave and dragged the whimpering mercenary with him. "Toodles!"  
  
“Please, let me take just a peep!” desperately pleaded professor Byleth amidst cries of pain, her voice cracking pitifully. “Just oooooooneeee!” Was the last thing the two students could properly hear from their constant bickering.  
  
“Honestly, do you think they are married?” Dared to ask Ashe with a cocked eyebrow once he turned his attention to Mercedes.  
  
“I frankly doubt they need to be married with that level of banter,” softly stated Mercedes with a gentle chuckle. “Anyway, Ashe, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to the noon prayers!” she explained as she made to depart, having forgotten entirely of her cuasi nudity, again.  
  
“Mercedes, you’re still almost naked!” nervously stated Ashe, hurrying towards her classmate while praying to the goddess his blush and lower body reactions were not too obvious. “The nuns are going to be there!”  
  


=== 0 ===

  
Several days after the cooking incident, Sylvain found professor Kragan leave the library, his eyes focused on the stack of books he carried. Seeing how the teacher clicked his tongue and shook his head amidst barely whispered curses, Gautier had a good idea what was going on. He approached the professor from behind, not announcing his presence til he slapped the man’s back and startled him. With wide open eyes, and the books almost falling from his grasp, the professor glared at him with a hint of surprise and fear, which disappeared swiftly when he recognized him.  
  
“Oh, Sylvain,” muttered Kragan with an almost hurtful lack of enthusiasm. He focused his attention once more on the stack of books, clicking his tongue in frustration  
“I was just scouring the library, to no avail.”  
  
“Is this still about Galatea’s lands?” Inquired Sylvain.  
  
“Yes, yes it is” grunted Kragan in dejection. He sighed, his shoulder slumping with disappointment. “To be specific, this is in regards to Galatea’s poor agriculture. Since Ingrid wasn’t able to provide me with any specifics, I tried to find information in the library, but found nothing of note, given the alarming focus the local books put on the goddamn crests.”  
  
Sylvain stared at the professor with intensity, the cogs within his brain working at full capacity. Pressing his lips until they almost disappeared, Gautier held his breath for a few moments before snapping his fingers at the professor, his face illuminated by the sudden discovery he had made.  
  
“I can help you, professor!” He announced with a beaming smile while he turned and gestured kragan to follow him.  
  
Once Sylvain had reached his room, after being stopped thrice by some of his flirting targets, the student opened his door swiftly and dashed inside. Kragan entered but the student gestured to him to stop when he made two steps in.  
  
“Professor, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep my intimacy,” begged Sylvain with an apologetic shrug. Kragan simply made a distraught oh and quickly left the room. “Thank you very much and… here!” He said while he rummaged the shelf filled with unopened love letters and less than pious novels and books.  
  
With a triumphant cry he produced a thick volume out of the shelf and turned to hand it to the teacher, standing right in front of the door and blocking any insight into his disheveled quarters.  
“This should provide the needed information,” announced Sylvain as he opened the book and.  
  
Kragan barely managed to take a quick gander before making a light chuckle.“Sylvain I hope I get to see you tomorrow in class, your absence these last days was duly noted,” upon seeing the disdainful groan the redhead emitted, Kragan smashed his index against Sylvain’s chest, earning an eye roll from him. "I just do not want your potential to be squandered, Gautier.”  
  
“The potential of a crest bearer, you mean?” Growled Sylvain in a soft, sullen voice, his eyes avertin Kragan’s. He was just like the rest.  
  
“The what now?” Blurted Kragan, his mouth agape with incomprehension. Then realization dawned on him and he laughed it off. “Ooooh! Right, right, that bit of retardation you Fódlanders have going on!” He wiped the tears, his laugh now dry.“No, the potential I’m seeing there," he said intently, pointing out at Sylvain's book shelf.  
  
“My spicy novels and unresponded love letters?” asked Sylvain, both incredulous and amused. He perched his body against the hinges of his room’s door. “Professor, you’ve got a strange definition for ‘potential’.  
  
“I’m talking about the book of Sreng customs, the book of historical relationships amongst the western lords of the kingdom and the whole series about agricultural know-how from all the regions of the Holy Kingdom you’ve got mixed in between those,” retorted Kragan, drawing a smarmy smile at the startled reaction he drew from Syvlain. "And these books look like they have plenty of handmade notes and commentary," muttered Kragan with pleased surprise, his brows rising amusedly.  
  
“Just,” Sylvain tried to retort, but words failed him. He shook his head in utter bewilderment and scratched his crimson mane in incomprehension. “How?”  
  
“Gautier, I’m a fast reader, it's something a requirement for my profession," Calmly explained Kragan as he toyed with the book."Tomorrow we have class at 9 in the morning, I expect to see you there,” he said once he locked stares with Sylvain again, his grin and expression giving no quarter, no room for negotiation.  
  
"And if I skip class again?" Dared Sylvain, arms crossed in defiance and a cocky smile drawn over his otherwise tense face.  
  
"I will have Ingrid hound you down! I will do whatever it takes to get every single of my students to bloom to its fullest potential" Claimed Kragan, his chest swelling with pride and his grin flashing teeth while Sylvain cringed in horror. With a hearty laugh, Kragan departed, raising and shaking the book. "I will try and give it back tomorrow in class, don't skip it!"  
  
  


=== 0 ===

  
The three teachers had proposed that the first year house leaders hold a tea party together. While the students had their reservations, each of them had their motivations to accept. Thus the two trios met. Each student sat next to their teacher, which was to act as a supervisor in case things went awry. So far there had been no need for such a precaution. That was until Claude brought in the dreaded subject: politics.  
  
“I’ve gotta say, though,” lazily pointed Claude as he perched his back against the chair, crossed his legs and clasped the bottom of the teacup with his hand. “I can't help but wonder if most of Fodlan's problems would be solved by being more open minded and tolerant of foreign cultures, if they made a bit of a melting pot, if you catch my drift.  
  
“Oh no,” dismissed Edelgard with a theatrical handwave and an all knowing grin on her face. She cleared her throat, ready to expose her stance. “The real issue is the excessive relevance given to crests, which have enshrined a nobility too obsessed with them rather than the capabilities of their owners.”  
  
“True indeed!” Agreed Dimitri while he raised his tea cup towards the imperial princess. “I have to say that the importance given to crests has turned into a worship that too often devolves into rabid fanaticism."  
  
"Would you kindly let me finish?" Complained Edelgard with a hint of a hiss, daggers flying from her eyes, though her facial expression remained cordial. "Yes, too much weight is given to crests rather than the aptitude of the individual which is why-  
  
Edelgard proceeded to explain, point for point, her vision of a meritocratic system. It was an interesting idea for sure, but the princess was frankly going overboard with the rhetoric and being too light on the specifics.  
  
“Oh, surely that wouldn’t lead to a repeat of the existing status quo at all,” muttered Dimitri with a hint of irritation as he took a sip of tea.  
  
“Beg your pardon? Dimitri, ” Inquired Edelgard before making a chilly, mirthless laugh, her chin rising up and her eyes narrowing down. She sounded sullen, and looked the part, going by her quivering lower lip. “I am certain that, if you can deride my proposals, you are able to articulate why.  
  
“Beforehand, I want to illustrate a scenario, princess,” began Dimitri with a calm and serene voice. He stretched his hand and raised his heart and index finger. “You have two kids: one comes from a wealthy family and another poor family," explained Dimitri.  
  
  
“The wealthy kid will have access to trained tutors, expensive books and gear, good medical care and nutrition,” the prince began raising fingers as listed the items. “And an environment that will both encourage and enable his studies," the prince paused a second, a grimace adorning his face as his tone became sadder. “The poor kid, though, will lack many, if not all, of those commodities. In fact...” He paused for a second, tapping the table with his index.  
  
"He may not be able to keep up," pointed Claude while he leaned further back, his grin that of a person finally on the loop.  
  
“Exactly!" Exclaimed a pleasantly surprised Dimitri. He tapped his palm against the table. "There’s a substantial chance he may have to devote a large percentage of his time and energy to help sustain his family, leaving him unable to properly form himself or train his body.”  
  
“So you’re saying that the system I spouse will favour those with the most resources,” Edelgard took the baton as she saw the meaning behind the prince’s words. “And thus, the existing elite will continue in power, nonetheless. But that doesn’t mean they will monopolize the top, since the most talented individuals will still rise and overshadow the less talented, if better trained, nobles. And in the end, said chosen nobles, will rise by virtue of the skills they’ve honed during their formative years, meaning they will be competent.”  
  
“Indeed,” reckoned Dimitri with a gentle smile, he then extended a hand, as if he was using it to chop vegetables. “The system you propose does allow for social mobility, but I feel you still create a largely unfair system that displaces the weight from crests to accumulated wealth. That’s why we should focus on empowering the lower classes and providing them with a safety net.”  
  
Edelgard looked nonplussed, annoyed even, at the prospect of her views being challenged. Claude merely grinned, clasping his hands together against the back of his head as he prepared himself for the incoming storm.  
  
“Safety net?” Asked Edelgard, pronouncing those words slowly, their meaning escaping the princess.  
  
“Yes, this is a concept that professor Kragan did illustrate to me a few days ago, and I can’t help but feel it is something we should strive for!” Explained Dimitri with enthusiasm only a puppy could hope to achieve. Kragan merely nodded in recognition, silently prodding the prince to continue.  
  
  
“Rather than letting our citizens fend for themselves, the administration should be the one to shoulder the efforts to provide all citizens with an education and healthcare, making the richest and more powerful contribute at a higher proportion,” the prince stared at the other two house leaders, who were visibly surprised at that proposition. “That way we ensure equality of living standards and provide those with talent but without resources a better chance to rise to the top!”  
  
Such a groundbreaking concept kickstarted a whole argument between the three. They all brought valid points and argued with tenacity. Unfortunately, like most things related with politics, the conversation devolved into bickering. Byleth merely nodded absentmindedly, bored out of her mind, while Kragan and Hanneman held a conversation of their own, letting the youths sort out their agendas.  
  
“You know El,” groaned Dimitri while he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was on the verge of his nerves’ end “I get the feeling this has less to do versus the political ramifications, and more about yourself. That vice of yours sure hasn’t changed.”  
  
“What? Beg your pardon?” Managed to squeak Edelgard, her eyes widening and her mouth standing agape in indignation at such an improper and sudden bout of informality. Only her family was allowed to call her that. “I fear we’ve not known each other long enough for you to take such formalities, your highness,” stated Edelgard with cool fury.  
  
“What?!” That finally broke Dimitri. He jerked his head forward in disbelief, his eyes turning pie plates and his jaw slackening. He barely managed to emit a strangled hiss. “We’ve known each other since we were nine!”  
  
Kragan spit his drink, part of the liquid apparently filtering to his lungs, going by his spasms and desperate coughing. Byleth howled with laughter, and Claude managed to make an amused smile. Hanneman rose and desperately tried to help the other professor.  
  
“You surely jest, I’d remember the displeasure,” bluntly stated Edelgard in a shaky voice.  
  
“We met regularly in Fhirdiad for three years!” Exclaimed Dimitri in sheer desperation, his hand extending towards Edelgard’s dagger.  
  
“Wh-,” Edelgard was almost about to blabber out, but managed to reign herself, regaining her composure and steady voice. “Dimitri, I have to say it’s most distasteful to  
  
“Is this some kind of sick joke!?” cried out Dimitri in outrage as he slammed his fists against the table, almost making the cups fall out. “You had me take dancing lessons non-stop, saying I had two right feet,” shot Dimitri with a desperate shout. He then furiously pointed at Edelgard’s right leg. “I gave you that dagger upon your departure, telling you to carve your own path!”  
  
In that moment Edelgard’s mind broke, overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. and the princess started doing a good fish impression, her mouth opening and closing swiftly and unable to form words. Byleth leaned her body too far back and fell backwards, her chair shattering with the impac; meanwhile Claude made an amused chuckle, his eyes darting between the two of them, trying to decide which one was more hilarious. Hanneman still tried to get Kragan to breathe. Dimitri didn’t waste any further time.  
  
“El, sun’s setting down, I’ve got to go home!” Squealed the prince in a highly pitched voice, his hands clasped together. A spark of recognition flew through Edelgard's eyes.“Does that ring any bells, El?  
  
“No, no, no NO!” Howled Edelgard, her fists hammering the table and spilling the cups. “My friend was someone adorable, not some oafish brute!” Screeched Edelgard with indignation. Without warning she rose from her seat and made to depart, sprinting her way out of the garden with nary a word.  
  


=== 0 ===

  
Edelgard von Hresvelg smashed the gates wide open, almost startling Hubert. Almost. The retainer observed his mistress pace into the room and march towards him with a furious stride, her face an emotionless mask. Knowing she’d express her worries in due time, Hubert saw fit to continue with the formalities and protocol. He bowed at lady Edelgard, a faint smile etched on his face.  
  
“Lady Edelgard,” muttered Hubert, reading the vase and getting a cup for her to drink. “I hope-”  
  
Without warning, Edelgard’s lips quivered and she grabbed the base at a blinding speed. With a soul rending grunt and a full body motion, she threw the vase against the wall, shards of pottery somersaulting in all directions. She fulminated the shattered vase’s remnants with a hateful glare, her breath heavy and ragged. Hubert was quick to note her hands and legs were trembling with anger and fear. Now, with this specific display, Hubert allowed himself to feel surprise. His body sagged ever so slightly and his mouth formed an o. He lost no time, making way to embrace the agitated princess.  
  
“H-hubert,” Began lady Edelgard before Hubert embraced her. She kept breathing further, almost on the verge of hyperventilation. It had been ages since he’d seen Edelgard this scared, this vulnerable. “He-he knows!”  
  
For a second Hubert was tempted to kiss her, to try and distract her from the boar prince’s manipulations and wickedness. Arming himself with untold valour, he made the giant’s leap. With great caution he began his way down to Edelgard’s cheeks, his lips setting into position. He shut down his eyes for the briefest of moments, his mind running wildly at the thought of finally engaging in such intimate contact with his mistress. Just when he was mere inches away, Edelgard shifted and put some distance between the two, terror filling her eyes.  
  
Hubert gritted his teeth in cold fury, his pupils shrinking at the dream-like idea of murdering the bastard. His disappointment at being unable to kiss Lady Edelgard shifted to righteous wrath against prince Dimitri, the obvious culprit.  
  
"He knows, he has investigated me," repeated Edelgard in a distraught hiss. She paced nervously around the room and, with each step, she grew calmer, her gait more calculated. Soon, she had regained her regal composure and Hubert saw not a single trace of fear. "Dimitri has investigated my past, he knows I was in Fhirdiad… he even attempted to impersonate a friend of mine, the one that gave me my dagger," she explained, her initial horror receding and giving path to hatred.  
  
Hubert let out a small gasp. “That prince, I knew he was a devious man, but this is truly something else, “growled Hubert as he furiously rubbed his chin. He sounded appalled and admiring in equal measure. “It stands to reason, of course, the house of Blaiddyd rules the Fhirdiad, so they most likely had access to such information.”  
  
“But, what flat out terrifies me is the boldness and ease with which he tried to impersonate my friend,” Edelgard covered her nose and mouth with both hands and took a deep breath. Her face, once and for all, had turned into a mask again. “He has studied my moves during that period of time, so there is no reason for him to keep doing the same during our time in the academy. Blaiddyd is trying to pull up something.”  
  
“And we should fight fire with fire,” ventured Hubert with a vicious grin. “I am at your disposal for that kind of skulduggery.”  
  
“Good, I want you to keep tabs on his retainer,” commanded edelgard as he directed her index against Hubert’s face. She then bit her nails twice. “He is seemingly a capable man and a duscur, whom have a very poor standing in the Kingdom.”  
  
“Which means he most likely has plenty of experience with unsavory and covert operations,” realized Hubert as he made to gather the shards of the broken vase. “Yes, I see the wisdom in that course of action. He’s clearly a dangerous man, I will handle that man personally, my lady.”  
  
“Good!” exclaimed Edelgard as she paced to and fro in deep concentration. She then paused her circling, and her lips quivered in anger, her furrow deepening. “Also, have some of our men follow their teacher, Kragan. He’s clearly a co-conspirator.”  
  
“We will need to discover his origins to start with,” reckoned Hubert, gathering the broken shards upon his laps. “Then we will need to investigate the dealings Dimitri has had with them, and how deep these dealings go. He may have the backing of some elements at best.”  
  
“And have made a pact with an unknown party, maybe a fully fledged nation, at worst,” concluded Edelgard as she folded her arms, her hands clutching against her sleeves. Her next words were filled with steel. “I will have Solon investigate him. I don’t want any further parties involved, and Those Who Slither In The Dark can use the Javelins of Light to great effect if that were the case.”  
  
Hubert continued his task, not saying anything else. The latest turn of events had filled his blood with adrenaline. Dimitri was lesser to Lady Edelgard in all regards but that didn’t mean the prince wasn’t proving himself a worthy opponent. But his underhanded tactics would pale in comparison to Hubert’s, the retainer promised himself.  
  
“You’ll prove to be good sport, nonetheless,” hissed Von Vestra, grinning in anticipation of the glorious war in the shadows that was about to unfold.  
  
  


=== 0 ===

  
The shadows creeped around the group of huddled bandits. Every single move, every single crackle of branches or falling debris was met by a collective set of gasps and muffled cries. Kostas had led a band of two hundred men, yet barely three dozen remained now.  
  
They were cold, dispossessed of most of their gear, and the knights of seiros had driven them right into the heart of the Red Canyon. They had two choices in such a place: starve to death, given it wasn’t a bountiful land; or get gored by the knights’ blades trying to flee.  
  
“Damn, we are just fucked, aren’t we?” muttered Larry, his bald head shining under the moonlight and his gargantuan gut sagging down his knees while he moved under the agonizing creaks of the trunk.  
  
“Not unless we manage to plan our escape,” argued Castor while he scratched his unkempt beard. He made a wolf’s grin as he rose with a proposal. “In fact, I have a plan but it requires me to be your l-”  
  
The requirement was never finished. Everyone knew what it would be, given he had been eyeing Kostas’ spot as the top dog in the band. They were not surprised he had the gall to make the move. Now, they were surprised by the axe that flew through the air and cleaved his face in two, spurting a geyser of blood and broken bones as the body somersaulted backwards and smashed the ground in a thunderous crash.  
  
“Did you hear that Lily?” purred a manly voice from the shadows behind the group.  
  
“He had a plan, it seems!” whispered a more gentle man close by. “Can you believe that Millie?”  
  
The remaining bandits further huddled, too terrified to brandish their weapons against the outlanders. The fire crackled, expanding the field of illuminated ruins a few steps further, illuminating the intruders and their cohorts. They were twins, two men of massive frame, bulging muscles and brightly tinctured hair. One had taken pink, and the other a light shade of blue. In all likelihood, it was the later one that had killed Castor, given he had no weapon, much unlike his twin.  
  
Had it been just the two of them, the bandits would likely have found enough courage to kill them. Some of them even started to get their weapons ready for their counter attack. Said battleplan died as soon as further bandits started to pour out from the shadows. Lots of them, angry and better armed than any of them.  
  
“We also have a plan,” sing-songed the blue bandit with a mirthless smile as he turned to his twin. “Right Millie?”  
  
“Indeed Lily! But oh my” chimed the pink haired bandit while he slowly licked his teeth and gauged kostas’ men. “We may need a few hands on board for this!”  
  
The two brothers and their companions chortled ominously and somehow Larry wished he had taken Kostas’ place at the end of the girl’s dagger.  
  
  
=== 0 ===  
  
  
  
AN: I always had a soft spot for the bandit twins that appeared in the FE games from 6 to 14. So yeah, these guys will be taking the place of poor Kostas.


End file.
